


Barcelona Bedtime Stories

by KatieDingo



Category: Last Tango In Halifax
Genre: Caroline and Gillian, F/F, Fluff, Hebden Women’s Disco because why not?, LTIH GoForIt, Lesbian Character, barcelona, sharing a bed trope, two mad bints share a bed and who knows what will happen!, what happens in Barcelona stays in Barcelona - or does it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25357732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieDingo/pseuds/KatieDingo
Summary: Dis Moi came up with the idea of checking in on Caroline, Gillian and the girls during their trip to Barcelona, and invited KatieDingo to pack her suitcase too. With Caroline and Gillian renting a two-bedroom townhouse for themselves and the girls, what are the chances the two adults end up sharing a bed before the trip ends? Set a few months before Season 5, this sweet, sangria-soaked tale is six years in the making.
Relationships: Gillian Greenwood/Caroline McKenzie-Dawson
Comments: 180
Kudos: 163





	1. This Little Piggy

Caroline plopped down heavily on the lumpy and faded old couch. Dust particles rose up in her wake, scattering everywhere but the pieces finding their way into the late afternoon sunbeams streaming in through the windows were the most visible. Caroline no longer minded the threadbare state of the sitting room at the farm she’d come to think of as a safe haven.  
  
Swallowing the last bit of the now room temperature white wine in her glass, she opened her mouth to plead to Gillian bring her more, but before she uttered a sound, Gillian appeared with the wine bottle in hand. She gave her an exhausted smile as Gillian made her way around the kids’ abandoned Easter presents to refill her glass. “How’d you know?” Caroline gratefully asked instead.  
  
“It’s a reward for helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you today. All that fuss for a meal they ate so quickly. Takes longer to do the dishes after,” Gillian moaned. “Bet they all come back in wanting a snack now that it’s been put away.” Caroline glanced out the window to see the kids playing, relieved Lawrence looked like he was enjoying the company of Flora and Calamity.  
  
“Ah, there’s nothing better than that feeling of quiet after a holiday meal. Let’s enjoy it while it lasts,” Gillian suggested, recognising Caroline seemed a million miles away and wanting to keep her in the present.  
  
Caroline almost managed a smile. “I don’t miss those big holiday dinners I used to do without any help,” she confessed. Dropping her voice so as not to be overheard despite there being no one else in the room, she added, “Mind you, Mum would try, but it’s actually easier for her to rest with Alan rather than have her underfoot in the kitchen.”  
  
Gillian shot her a knowing smile that acknowledged their shared experience. She had been relieved when the Buttershaws moved to their own bungalow a few months ago as she often found Celia and her unending opinions about everything hard to avoid some days. At least having everyone at the table for a holiday meal gave both Gillian and Caroline a buffer from the elder Mrs. Buttershaw.  
  
“God it feels good to sit,” Gillian declared, putting her feet up on the coffee table. As she crossed her feet at her ankles, she noticed how worn her old loafers looked beside Caroline’s designer shoes. She couldn’t help but wonder how Caroline managed to spend all day on her feet in them. She remembered the expensive high heels Caroline had been wearing when they first met and she’d pegged her as a snotty bitch. She’d never guessed back then she’d be happy to see those feet up on her table like this.  
  
“I’m just glad for a few moments of peace,” Caroline admitted between sips of her wine, unaware of Gillian’s thoughts. Their day had started as soon as Caroline and Flora arrived; Calamity was too excited to wait any longer for the egg hunt. They’d moved on to the inevitable battle to keep the kids from filling up on Easter chocolate before lunch, but now the family meal was finished and the young ones were outside, loosely supervised by their grandparents, the women relished the opportunity to take the weight off their feet and have a few minutes to themselves.  
  
Lost in her thoughts, Caroline’s unintended sigh was loud enough to be heard by Gillian, who turned to inspect her with a sharp intensity that missed nothing.  
  
“You okay?” she asked, hoping for more than the rote _I’m fine_ she normally got from Caroline.  
  
“I’m just a bit tired. Work’s crazy. We’re liaising with security to get the final details in place for Michelle Obama’s visit.”  
  
“You set out to make a difference but, wow!” Gillian was genuinely impressed. Caroline was the only person she knew who would even attempt to get someone like an Obama involved.  
  
“It’s been a crazy couple of years.” Caroline rubbed her temples, trying to sooth some of the tension from her head. “She wouldn’t be visiting had we not turned our outcomes around so dramatically.”  
  
“You look worn out. What have you done for yourself lately?”  
  
“I realised the other day that I haven’t had a proper vacation since before Kate. Weekend jaunts to William at Oxford don’t count.” She glanced at Gillian, as if confessing something embarrassing. “I could really use one, but I’m too tired to even book anything,” she admitted.  
  
“I haven’t had a vacation since Robbie,” Gillian commiserated. Of course, to the tired farmer it felt like a vacation when someone else fed her sheep for a day. She longed for summer when they could at least feed themselves.  
  
“Would you want to go somewhere, with the girls?” Caroline brightened. “I’d love the company and frankly it would be easier with Calamity to occupy Flora.”  
  
“You thinking beach, or some more touristy destination?” Gillian asked, instantly worried about her budget, figuring Caroline would want to splash out more than a farmer could afford.  
  
Caroline paused for a moment, working out the most affordable option for Gillian which would still be amenable to them both.  
  
“We might be able to find something family friendly, with a kitchen so we can prepare meals,” she offered, thinking it would be cheaper but careful not to verbalise it to avoid undue embarrassment for Gillian. She added quietly, “I could look into it if you like.”  
  
Gillian was relieved, although still dubious about the cost. “It’d have to be down the middle, Caz. I won’t have you paying for me.”  
  
“No, no. We’ll make it fair.” Caroline reached for Gillian’s hand, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze before letting it go to reach for her glass again.  
  
“If we found one with two bedrooms, you could take one with Flora, and I’ll bunk in with Calam.” That would do, wouldn’t it?” Gillian asked hopefully, knowing that a three or four bedroom place would be likely to be well out of her price range.  
  
“Yep. We could make that work,” Caroline reassured, grateful for Gillian’s interest. She didn’t want to admit she needed a playmate to keep her from being lonely. A change of scenery wasn’t going to be enough to break the monotony of being a single, working parent. With a smile growing, she promised, “I’ll look after the first lady’s visit. I won’t have time before then.”  


* * *

  
  
  
Caroline barely remembered the first day of their trip. Gillian noticed how wrecked she’d been when they’d arrived in Barcelona, with eyeballs hanging from their sockets and not even a flash of judgement when Gillian stuffed up with the cab from the airport, oozing a tired acceptance of the inevitability of her life screwing up somehow, like this too was just one more thing to get through. Not used to seeing Caroline so reticent, Gillian cornered her about it as they dragged their bags into the light-filled townhouse. Hearing Caroline’s admission she was so exhausted she wondered if her brain was leaking out her ears, Gillian had immediately offered to take the girls out to explore the neighbourhood so Caroline could enjoy an unscheduled siesta.  
  
Despite the four-hour nap, Caroline stalked the townhouse like a zombie, causing Gillian to feed her an early dinner and send her to bed at 8pm with the girls. Caroline was so dead to the world that she didn’t wake as Flora snuggled next to her in the queen-sized bed that first night.  
  
Over the first few days they had developed a habit allowing Caroline to catch up with desperately needed sleep in the early afternoon. Of course, it had helped that Caroline had the bed to herself for her afternoon naps. She’d known that Flora liked to cuddle but she hadn’t realised just what a wrigglepot Flora would be and sharing a bed at night had become a problem. It was akin to sharing space with an octopus during a storm; arms and legs flailing all over the place, constantly waking Caroline every night in the process.  
  
While Caroline slept in the afternoons, Gillian ran the girls ragged in the nearby parks. Park Güell was located only a block away and a children’s playground was around the corner. Calamity and Flora loved the activities in the family friendly neighbourhood of Gràcia under the watchful eyes of Gillian, who had a tendency to join in, to the delight of the kids. However, the serious badgering for an ice cream began when the girls had finished playing and they were on the way back to the townhouse. Happily, in holiday mode, Gillian gave in each time, but only after making them promise to eat all their dinner and to not tell Caroline.  
  
In an effort to be fair to Gillian, Caroline occupied the girls in the mornings, giving Gillian richly deserved time to explore Barcelona on her own. Gillian had never before had the opportunity to do that; her holidays, when they’d happened, had always been dominated by the whims of one or the other of the Greenwood men. It was a rare treat and she found the freedom invigorating but after a couple of days, she was wishing Caroline and the girls were with her enjoying the sights.  
  
Towards the end of their first week in Barcelona, Caroline was feeling more rested than she had been in years. After her afternoon nap and cooking them all dinner, she was in a strange place of calm. It wasn’t something she was used to and she wondered how long it would be before she tired of it. Back in West Yorkshire, there were days she would have given her eye teeth to have all this time to herself, but now, after a couple of days, to her surprise, she missed not being with Gillian and the girls in the afternoons.  
  
While the women cleaned up after dinner, the girls had snuck into the Greenwood bed to watch a movie and had fallen asleep, exhausted after the excitement of the day. Their small bodies curled into one another, seeking warmth even while remnants of the day’s heat hung in the air. Watching them sleep, arms folded in front of her body, Caroline could feel the gentle weight of Kate pressing in on her and she sighed. Kate would have loved this, she thought, seeing her daughter with her arm draped haphazardly over Calamity’s face and Calamity’s fist, loosened in sleep, still clutching Flora’s new T-shirt.  
  
Gillian leant against the doorframe, watching Caroline watch Flora. They’d been still for minutes, held in the sluggish trance of busy people suddenly unmoored from their daily chores. Gillian shrugged herself off the doorframe and tiptoed towards Caroline, resting her fingers lightly on Caroline’s forearm.  
  
“Let’s leave them be,” she whispered.  
  
Caroline turned slowly, fondness softening her features as she gazed at Gillian. “Mmmm. Okay.” She smiled and followed Gillian out of the room, carefully leaving the door slightly ajar behind them so they could hear the girls if needed.  
  
They walked through the kitchen and out into the courtyard where the light was starting to fade and the long evening stretching before them.  
  
Gillian handed Caroline a margarita, a strawberry straddling the rim, its toes dipping into the green tequila sea.  
  
“You look like you’ve finally got a neck there Caz. I thought you lost it, buried in your shoulders. S’good to see your earlobes again too,” she said, licking the sweet stickiness of the ripe berry off her fingertips.  
  
Caroline smiled, flexing her neck to prove the point.  
  
“Honestly thought I’d never catch up on sleep. It seemed to be the permanent state of things.” She took another sip of the margarita, pursing her lips slightly before the liquid slid down her throat, a flash of fire as it swam into her belly. “Thank you for looking after Flora for me. I couldn’t...” She stopped, the words refusing to coalesce on her tongue.  
  
“That’s fine. Happy to, me, you know that.” Gillian plonked herself on the lounge chair in the private courtyard, wriggling her toes as she compared the burnt orange colour of the wall to the fading purple bruise on her foot. She blamed the sodding sheep jumping heavily on her gumboot the day before she left.  
  
Still inspecting her bruise, she asked, “So what’s up for tomorrow?”  
  
“I thought we might wander around the city. There’s that hop-on, hop-off sightseeing bus. It could be fun.”  
  
“The girls would love it.”  
  
As they made plans for the next day, the women fell into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the people beyond the wall settling into their nightly rhythms of kids and dinner and bed. As the families quietened, a different type of noise cascaded over the wall as the younger set ventured out after 10pm.  
  
Their glasses were refilled a couple of times and conversation sporadically burst into life before a companionable quiet settled over them again. It had been a long time since Caroline had felt anything close to peace. The fact that it now happened in the company of Gillian had astounded her at first, but she had grown accustomed to it. Now she had the time to appreciate the lulls in the conversation mixed with the energetic bursts of excitement from the farmer. She was relieved the holiday was going so well.  
  
Gillian was enjoying the holiday too. She was enjoying the ease of Caroline’s company. She had wondered if she might be going on holiday with Caroline the Head Teacher, but after a few days she’d realised that away from all the pressures of having to _be_ someone, Caroline was more interested in simply _being_ —well, that and sleeping, the never-ending requirement of the single parent of a young child.  
  
What Gillian hadn’t realised was how much energy she had needed to hold herself in whenever she was around anyone else. It had been a bit of a revelation to understand how that tension filled her at home. She knew she didn’t need to hide from Caroline; it wasn’t just Eddie, it was also knowing that underneath the glossy exterior, Caroline was just as much of a mess as she was. A relaxed smile written on her face, she turned to observe the blonde, long pale legs stretched out on the lounge chair, toenails coloured fairy-purple by Flora the day before, wearing the baggy shorts only allowed on holiday.  
  
She couldn’t imagine Caroline wearing those faded apricot-coloured shorts at home; what would the neighbours say? Gillian grinned at the thought. She had noticed the roundness to Caroline’s shape that had developed over the years, but it had come with a softening of her heart as well. The feisty, sharp woman she’d met outside a pub all those years ago had been well and truly beaten up by life, and the softer version was more forgiving of herself and others. It made her easier to be around. As Gillian’s eyes lingered over the lush curves, the word voluptuous sprang into her mind. She was thinking of Botticelli or Cannelloni or one of those Italian painters—she’d never much paid attention to them—because tonight she thought it would take someone with that level of talent to do Caroline justice. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought Caroline was attractive. She wondered when that had changed, when she’d started noticing.  
  
Deep in thought, Gillian raised her eyes to find Caroline watching her, her expression indecipherable. They held each other’s gaze, longer than Gillian had thought possible, noise fading into the background as an unexpected flare around Caroline’s irises made her blink. Desire. That’s what it was. Not usually one to back away from desire, Gillian turned away, the warmth of a rare blush rising up her face. She cleared her throat, knowing she’d been spotted checking Caroline out.  
  
Gillian had a moment of panic, knowing that this was not the time to let Caroline know she was interested. What the hell was she thinking? As if Caroline would be interested in her! Caroline was far too well put together to be interested in a poor bloody sheep farmer. Gillian gripped the edge of the chair, resisting the urge to smack herself firmly in the head for being a tosspot, the word _Pillock!_ crashing around her skull.  
  
“Are you alright?” She heard Caroline gently enquire.  
  
“Fine. I’m fine” Gillian managed to respond, trying to ignore the internal klaxon of _Pillock! Idiot! Wanker!_ “Sorry. Don’t know...”  
  
The air was suddenly heavy between them. Gillian stared vacantly into her empty glass. “W-w-want another round,” she blurted, choosing the first thing that came to her mind to get her out of there. Anything to save Caroline the need to give her the bollocking she was already giving herself.  
  
“Okay.” Caroline sat still, watching as Gillian leapt out of her chair and bolted for the kitchen before she answered.  
  
Caroline had never expected this. She’d always known that Gillian was to be admired as a physical specimen of womanhood, but it was only in the last few years that she’d grown to admire the farmer for so much more. She had become Caroline’s go-to friend, the confidant who knew just how damaged she’d been by Kate’s death and loved her anyway. She’d carefully compartmentalised her thoughts about Gillian; _straight, stepsister, best friend. Don’t go there, not even in your head!_ The walls she’d carefully constructed around those surreptitious feelings she had about Gillian—her laugh, the tilt of her head when she was perplexed, her strength in the face of adversity—were all starting to crack. She knew what that look meant, but what the hell was she supposed to do with it?  
  
Doubt crawled through Caroline’s mind, ever present when it came to relationships. Maybe she’d misinterpreted it. She had done that at university and it had been horribly embarrassing. She sighed, a cavalcade of hurt and self-judgement traipsing through her booze-sodden system before she sank gracelessly back into the arms of the lounge chair. It had obviously just been the drink. Maybe she was just being a twat, or maybe Gillian was just having a moment. She decided it was best to ignore it, burying it in her psyche like the beef bones Ruth was so fond of hiding in the garden.  
  
“Here you go. That’s the last of it. Maybe tomorrow we’ll make sangria.” Gillian handed Caroline her final drink of the night.  
  
“Thank you.” Caroline grinned. “Sounds lovely. I like being on holiday,” she said with a chuckle, raising her glass in a toast. “To my own private bartender.”  
  
Gillian laughed as she toasted with Caroline, the relief of a lighter moment clearing the air between them a little. Gillian took a sip and plonked herself down again on the edge of her chair, slumping sideways onto the lounge so she was facing Caroline. Thinking about the girls happily curled up in bed, she wondered about the night’s sleeping arrangements.   
  
“Hey, I know you’ve been having trouble sleeping, what with Tinkerbell being restless. How about we leave them be and bunk in together tonight? I don’t think I snore. Well, not that anyone’s said, anyway,” Gillian admitted, remembering the tosspots she’d married and taking another quick drink to banish the thought.  
  
Caroline turned and caught Gillian’s eyes. She paused, thinking about it through the haze of the alcohol, the offer of sleep always enchanting and better than the thought of moving Flora. “Actually, that would be great. We could let them sort it out together, and we’ll both get some sleep. Only if you don’t mind.”  
  
“No, no. Not at all. Be fun, bunking with you.” She grinned. “I bet you kick less than Calam. Think my bruises have bruises...” she said, fingers dancing lightly on her thighs over discoloured patches of skin.  
  
Caroline laughed lightly, trying not to stare at Gillian’s well-toned thighs. “That’s settled then. Bottom’s up!” she exclaimed, taking a large gulp of liquid before sighing with pleasure at the anticipation of a decent night’s sleep.  
  
It wasn’t very long before the night’s rowdy neighbours went home, leaving an indistinct murmur to add a comforting background noise to the bedtime rituals of teeth cleaning and changing into pyjamas.  
  
Gillian gave Caroline a drowsy, tipsy hug before falling heavily into the bed, dragging the sheet over her. The 20ºC temperature had her lying with her brown legs and white feet sticking out from under the sheet, and Caroline, more than a little merry, couldn’t resist tweaking the painted toes on offer.  
  
“This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little—“  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Looks like Calamity was more precise with your polish than Flora was with mine,” Caroline laughed. “I promise not to flail about in the night, if you promise not to kick me.”  
  
“Deal.” Gillian chuckled as she snuggled into her pillow, allowing herself to settle into the soft bed, taking care to stay on her side.  
  
Caroline got into the bed, turned off the light and sighed happily. She’d had a lovely day, and an even better evening. She turned to face Gillian, noting the brunette’s eyes were already closed, the day of physical exercise followed by drinking sending her quickly off to sleep. Caroline watched her doze for a while before she fell into dreamland herself. 


	2. Goldilocks

Gillian stirred as the first fingers of light reached through the curtains. The house was silent apart from the sporadic hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. She opened her eyes and slowly surveyed the new room, her clothes from yesterday heaped on a chair and Caroline’s daypack tucked into a corner. It was then she became aware of the breath on her neck, the soft exhalation warm on her skin. She followed the train of thought and sure enough, Caroline’s arm was wrapped around her too. She smiled to herself. She was enveloped in warm softness and the divine scent of Caroline’s skin against her own. Not daring to move, she allowed herself to enjoy this rare moment. As the minutes ticked by, she wondered why she felt just so comfortable, so at peace, so right with the world. When Robbie had cuddled her like this, she’d felt trapped. Now she felt safe. Cocooned.  
  
The fridge whirred into life again and Caroline slowly rose towards the surface of wakefulness, gently pulling Gillian closer to her while still well beneath the waves of sleep. She nuzzled the slender neck in front of her before softly kissing it.  
  
Gillian froze. Caroline was not particularly tactile by nature so this affection was completely unexpected. Was it sexual or sisterly? Was it a prelude to something more? Was she dreaming of Kate? A thousand questions sped through Gillian’s mind in the seconds it took for Caroline’s breathing to slow again as she submerged back into slumber.  
  
Gillian’s mind was whirring faster than the fridge and her heart was pounding louder. She had no context for what had just happened. Was it subconscious desire? She was sure she was overthinking it. She did know that whatever it was, it was the best thing to have happened to her in ages. She closed her eyes and drew comfort from the protective closeness of her best friend. Affection. That’s how she’d frame it; everything else was too risky.  
  
Her heart rate had just about returned to normal when she heard the clumping of Calam’s heavy feet, followed closely by Flora’s lighter footsteps. Gillian clasped Caroline’s hand, giving it a squeeze.  
  
“Caroline? Caroline. Wake up Snow White. The elves are about to descend.” She patted the hand draped over her stomach.  
  
“Mmmm?” Caroline opened her eyes and jerked backwards, suddenly aware of just how close she was to Gillian. “Sorry,” she croaked. “Sorry.”  
  
Before Gillian could respond, the kids bounded into the room and onto the bed, full of the excitement of the bus trip. She noticed Caroline was already stumbling towards the ensuite bathroom, a lively blush of pink rising up her neck, and the disappointment of the kids’ timing hit her low in the belly.  
  
Gillian tried not to feel hurt, tried not to feel the loss of Caroline’s protective arm around her, tried not to show any reaction. She shook her head and made an effort to join the girls’ enthusiasm for the day, pushing the moment of her long-desired connection with Caroline out of her mind.  
  
Their day chasing the girls had begun, whether she was ready for it or not. It was time to get on with it.   


* * *

  
The hustle and bustle of getting the girls breakfast before heading out for a day of sight-seeing together gave Gillian and Caroline something to focus on rather than how close they had been in bed. It wasn’t until they were queued up for the tour bus, tickets in one hand and each clutching a little one’s hand in their other, that they properly looked each other in the eyes. “You okay,” Gillian finally asked. “You could always go back to the townhouse and I’ll take the girls if you want more rest.”  
  
“No, no. It’ll be fun to see the city. Let’s head straight for the upper deck,” Caroline responded, trying to brush off any further discussion for the time being, looking down to shush Flora whose voice was growing louder as she and Calamity were reciting silly nursery rhymes loudly enough to be heard over the sounds of the traffic. Gillian, watching her more carefully than Caroline realised, noticed her looking like she was blinking away some tears.  
  
“No, you’re not okay,” Gillian said softly, thankful the girls were amusing themselves as they waited for the bus. “Come on, Vincent. I’m willing to listen if you want to share.”  
  
She didn’t know how to tell her that she was thinking about Kate. Kate talked about doing this bus tour with her years ago, only they never managed the getaway. She also didn’t know how to tell her she was feeling guilty that she was glad it was Gillian sharing it with her now. To her relief, the bus pulled up at that moment, making it easy for Caroline to avoid any further discussion. At least for the moment.  
  
The only remaining upper seats weren’t facing each other so Caroline steered Flora to the seats immediately behind Gillian and Calamity. Thinking she’d scored a reprieve from Gillian’s watchful eyes, the melancholy blonde placed a protective arm around Flora’s shoulders making sure she stayed seated rather than lean over the rail to look down below as the bus got underway.   
  
Gillian repeatedly turned around to engage Flora, pointing out sights and cracking silly jokes, taking any excuse she could find to glance at Caroline. Incognisant of Gillian’s watchful eyes, Caroline marvelled at Gillian’s energy and ease with the kids as she thought back to the day they met. Gillian had been a convenient punching bag—Caroline knew she’d been spoiling for a fight after Kate’s admission that Michael Dobson knew about their affair—and the embarrassment of it still hung heavy in her memory.   
  
Every now and then she’d shelve her thoughts and join in the chatter about Barcelona, trying to keep herself in the present, knowing that if she thought about the past she’d become too maudlin. Her traveling companions and daughter deserved better. After all, this was meant to be a vacation so why shouldn’t she take a break from her regrets as well? Leaving Harrogate, finding success at her new school, and just getting on with things had helped her feel more settled and content than she had been since she lost her wife, despite the endless exhaustion of being a single parent and always feeling like she was running late to her next obligation.

Having Greg living in and helping with Flora in the early days had been a godsend. Just before she met Olga, she and Greg decided it was time for him to move back to his flat full-time and that’s when Caroline’s juggling routine began in earnest. Now, watching Gillian being so natural and carefree with the girls, she realised how much she needed a partner to help her with Flora. And if she could find a mate to warm her bed too, her life would be complete. She wondered what would have happened if they’d met under different circumstances, despite knowing that deep down she wouldn’t have given the welly-clad farmer a second glance.  
  
The day she realised their friendship had grown into an attraction to Gillian, she’d known she could never act on it. But then this morning she’d woken holding Gillian tightly to her, nose buried in Gillian’s hair. She’d panicked, horrified that she’d somehow let the cat out of the bag, that her subconscious had communicated more clearly the desire she had endeavoured to hide.  
  
This trip was turning into an adventure of a different kind. Caroline had expected to feel at loose ends in Barcelona, thinking about Kate and the trip they could have enjoyed, should have enjoyed. Instead, all she could think about was Gillian, soft and unguarded, sharing the same bed, and how, lying beside her, she’d experienced her best night’s sleep since Kate had died.  
  
As the bus traversed the city, the day changed form for Caroline, the translucent film of the past that lay over her waking moments dissolving into the clarity of the present with Gillian and the girls.

* * *

  
Gillian dropped the heavy bag on the bench, calling out to Caroline in the courtyard as she put away the shopping.  
  
“I got the Rioja and some white wine. Want peaches or oranges in your sangria?”  
  
Gillian’s mouth was watering in anticipation of sangria for their evening digestif. They’d had dinner with the girls on their way home, and seeing them flag after the day’s adventure, Caroline had offered to bring the girls home and put them to bed while Gillian did the shopping.  
  
“Both!” came Caroline’s reply on the evening breeze.  
  
Gillian grinned, sneaking in the odd sip as she prepared the pitcher of sangria. She added it to the tray already laden with two glasses, two small plates and a platter of cheese and fruit. Of course Caroline had not only cut everything into snack-sized pieces, but she’d laid them out with the precision of the architecture they’d seen today.  
  
“Ff-bloody spirals! You twat!” Gillian laughed at Caroline’s laugh, which grew louder as she walked outside. “You’re unbelievable, you are.”  
  
“Helix. It was too tempting, after all your comments about Gaudi’s work.”  
  
“You can’t tell me he’s not trying to get into some woman’s pants with all those curves everywhere.”  
  
Caroline shot her a look. “Him, or you?”  
  
“Don’t you...pillock.” Gillian landed heavily in the chair. “Are you sure it weren’t you, seeing things?”  
  
The day flashed through her memory and Caroline looked into her drink, trying not to blush too much although she could feel a subtle warmth rise up her neck. They’d been outside the Casa Batllo and she’d been admiring the mathematical complexity of Antonio Gaudi’s architecture, recognising the helicoids in the structures and other shapes from nature. It reminded her of Gillian and her job, working in the fields and dealing with nature in all its forms. The day was sunny, but she could imagine how water would flow down the undulating exterior of the building, and that led her into the dangerous territory of fluid dynamics and the topography of Gillian and she gulped, trying not to make it obvious that she was ‘having a moment.’  
  
She hastily took a swig of the sangria, hoping it would distract from the small flush in her cheeks.  
  
“Nope. Not me.” She risked a glance at Gillian, thinking she might get away with it, only to realise that it was a fool’s errand trying to outfox Gillian in matters carnal.  
  
“As you were saying, Caz...” Gillian smirked, enjoying the satisfaction of watching Caroline squirm.  
  
“Moving on,” Caroline blurted, shaking her head slightly as if to shift the thoughts. “What would you like to do tomorrow?”  
  
Gillian stared at her for a moment, before giving in to the change of topic gracefully. “I were thinking we could go to the beach tomorrow. The girls would love that; play on the sand, watch the boats. You up for that?”   
  
Grateful for the reprieve, Caroline nodded. She was grateful for more than the shift in the discussion; Gillian often seemed to know when she was up for teasing, and when was enough. She only wished she had the same facility, but knew that even after all this time she still had no clue. She sighed as she reached for a morsel of cheese, trying not to disrupt the pattern she’d created.  
  
“I am. That sounds like a lovely idea. The girls will love it.” Seeing the wine-soaked fruit peering out from under the ruby elixir that was further softening her edges, Caroline dipped two fingers into her glass and pulled out an orange slice as if it was a prize at the fair. Gillian silently watched as the relaxed blonde sucked it dry. Leaning forward to discard the spent rind on her plate, she was unaware Gillian was riveted to her movements. As she sat back, she licked the sweet stickiness off her fingers. Gillian swallowed hard and shifted her focus back to the food platter to avoid detection.  
  
Caroline watched Gillian’s hand hover over the platter, deliberately making a play for the centre cuboids of cheese and destroying the helix in the process. Caroline looked up, raising an eyebrow as she spotted Gillian’s cheeky grin. Of course Gillian would be tempted to disrupt; it was in her very nature. Caroline smiled ruefully. While not always convenient, Gillian’s rebelliousness was something that gave her an anarchic thrill although she hated to encourage it; she had no idea how she’d cope if Gillian really went for it.  
  
“Love the helix, there Caz. Want to build one with Calam tomorrow? She’ll love it.”  
  
Sidetracked instantly with the thought of leading someone, anyone, down the path of maths and science, Caroline perked up.  
  
“Oh, that’s a good idea.” The temptation to go shopping for a protractor and ruler was all too visceral and she had to rein herself in; Calamity was only 5, after all. She cast her thoughts to Flora, wondering if she would ever show interest in geometry. She loved and adored Flora, but she was completely over the fairy phase. At least she’d managed to avoid the princess phase; she hoped it wasn’t on the horizon.  
  
The discussion moved onto the kids and guiding them through the various stages of childhood before wandering onto more general topics. As the light faded and the noise in the street subsided, the sangria ran out and it was time for bed.  
  
Turning out the lights after checking on the kids, Gillian followed Caroline into the master bedroom. _Master. Interesting that we still call it that. I wonder who’d be master here? Mistress? Shit! Pillock! What the hell am I thinking that for!_ Gillian castigated herself for daring to go there just before getting into bed with her step-sister. _You’re really making it ff-bloody hard for yourself you bollocking idiot._  
  
The lure of pleasure was one thing, but Gillian hated the thought it might jeopardise the one relationship she relied on to keep her sane. Facing the wall while she changed into her saggy T-shirt and Leeds United boxer shorts in startling blue and yellow, Gillian was trying to resist the temptation to peek while Caroline undressed, although she could hear a shirt come off. Trying to keep it light, Gillian used such a fake-happy voice to respond to the pre-sleep chatter that Caroline stopped undressing to ask if she was all right.  
  
“Sure. Fine. You know me.”  
  
“Okay.” Caroline watched her for a moment, the awkwardness filling the air. She wondered if Gillian’s nervousness was about sleeping in the same bed as a lesbian, although it hadn’t been a problem the night before. Perhaps it was about how they woke up; Caroline with a possessive arm around Gillian’s midriff and her face buried in Gillian’s hair.  
  
“Are you sure? You’re not, um, a bit...uncomfortable...about, you know,” she said quietly, waving a hand vaguely at the bed, the other holding her shirt tightly in front of her chest even though she was still wearing her bra. Thinking about being in bed with Gillian again, a heat rose up her neck and she was sure she was a bit flushed, remembering the visceral sensation of her breasts pressed against Gillian’s back, the heady scent of Gillian and her fruity shampoo filling her senses.  
  
“No, no, no.” Gillian spluttered, turning slowly so she could watch Caroline’s reaction, determined to keep her eyes on Caroline’s face, and no lower.  
  
“It’s not...?” Caroline queried.  
  
“No.”  
  
“...ah...”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Gillian took a step forward, hands already fidgeting. “It’s just that...” she started.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It were nice, waking up, like that.”  
  
Now the admission was out, Gillian relaxed a bit and that’s when her eyes dropped to Caroline’s chest and she felt like she’d stumbled into one of her fantasies. Caroline’s bra was lacy and expensive and the way it carried its cargo had Gillian completely mesmerised. Only partially hidden by a shirt dangling in front, there they were; not too large, not too small, but just right; the most luscious breasts she had ever seen.  
  
It felt like an eternity, but eventually she managed to drag her eyes to the floor and her brain waded through a fog of lust to recapture the thread of the conversation.  
  
“Um, it were fine for me.” She looked at her feet nervously. “I liked it. Don’t want it every night, but it were nice, cuddling.”  
  
After a few moments trying to get her libido to calm down, Gillian glanced up to see Caroline wearing a soft blue pyjama top covering what was now indelibly imprinted on her retinas. She could see the gentle smile rise up Caroline’s face.  
  
“I liked it too,” she said quietly.  
  
Gillian relaxed, a broad smile flaring as she kicked her clothes into a pile and then clambered onto the bed.  
  
“Come on then.” She lifted the sheet. “Jump in Goldilocks.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Goldilocks and the Three Bears,_ first recorded as a story by Robert Southey, 1837


	3. Rapunzel

Heart pounding, sweating, no way to escape. Gillian suddenly reached out for Caroline, findingher hand and clutching it until she felt a corresponding squeeze. She could feel Caroline moving in the bed until Caroline was right behind her. An arm slid over her stomach, pulling Gillian into the safety of Caroline’s embrace.

“It’s okay,” she heard. “You’re safe.” It was soft, deep, layered with sleep.

She gripped Caroline’s hand and pulled it tightly to her chest, holding onto it with both of her hands.

They lay there for long minutes until Gillian’s grip lessened. Then Gillian felt Caroline’s arm move, fingers carefully searching underneath her T-shirt. She froze, wondering what was coming, when a soft hand slid along the surface of her belly until it rested, splayed out at the base of her ribs. She held her breath, not sure what to expect—this sort of intimate touch had always been a prelude to something sexual in the past—but the stillness of the hand, the slow warm breaths on her neck, and the calm heartbeat told her it was something else. Something different. Gillian breathed again, settling into the sanctuary provided by the woman lying behind her. It was skin on skin contact, taking Gillian back to childhood when heartbeats resonated through bodies until they were in sync.

“It’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” was all Caroline said, and Gillian felt held in a way she couldn’t imagine was possible. Even knowing Caroline couldn’t really guarantee that, Gillian felt safe in a way she’d never felt with any of the men she’d slept with. Caroline hadn’t needed an explanation; she’d simply understood. She’d somehow known that the best thing she could do was to be present, and she had. Gillian threaded her fingers through Caroline’s, knowing she’d feel even the slightest movement of the woman so close she could feel her body all the way along her back. The comfort of this connection lulled them both into a dreamless sleep, and even when they turned over, it wasn’t long before they shifted so that Caroline was spooning protectively around Gillian again. 

In the early morning, when light filtered through the curtains and the fridge made itself known in the silence, Gillian lay wrapped in Caroline’s arms. She smiled to herself, turning her head slightly to hear the gentle pattern of Caroline’s breathing. Although she hadn’t mean it to, her movement was enough to stir Caroline from her sleep, and she snuggled even closer.

“Morning.” Caroline lifted her head to look at Gillian’s face. “How are you this morning?”

“M’okay.” She craned her neck to see Caroline’s face, features soft from sleep and yet to be outlined by makeup, eyes still a brilliant blue but eyebrows blending into the pale pink of her face.

“I like you without makeup. You look beautiful.” She gazed with more clarity, eyes wandering slowly around the face now so close. “It’s like it’s really who you are, without all the layers. I like it.” She didn’t add that she felt privileged to be one of the few who had the chance to see Caroline without the defence of having her ‘face’ on.

“Do you? I always think my face loses all definition.” She closed her eyes, a sharp memory obviously passing across her mind. “That’s what my mum said. It’s a problem of being fair.”

Gillian nodded. “Well, we both know I think your mum’s a bit of a pillock sometimes, Caz.”

Caroline screwed her mouth up, obviously trying not to grin but doing it anyway. “Okay.”

Gillian inelegantly turned over to face Caroline, trying not to disrupt her too much before settling where she could see her clearly.

“You’re gorgeous. You must know that.” She tenderly swept Caroline’s hair behind the available ear, gently caressing her cheek for a few moments, fascinated by the freckles and the softness of the skin, aware desire was building within, until Caroline suddenly bristled and pulled away.

“Gillian. What are you...”

Caroline abruptly sat up to perch on the edge of the bed, hair a beautiful mess, the soft cotton pyjama top riding up on one side to reveal a fleshy hip.

“You can’t...it’s not...” Caroline spat out, confusion mixed with indignation in her voice. “It’s not a game. You don’t get to muck around because you’re bored Gillian. It’s not fair!”

“No! Caroline, I wasn’t...”

Panic exploded through Gillian like a fireball, incinerating everything in its path. In its wake was the ice-cold fear of losing Caroline, the only real friend she had. Caroline was the only one who really knew her, knew about Eddie. How many years had it taken to get Caroline to drop her mental barriers and relax around her, and she’d just blown it to smithereens.

She’d meant what she’d said, but she would do whatever it took to fix it, undo it, bury it.

“I’m sorry. I’m a pillock. I didn’t mean it. It was just...”

Caroline turned to look at Gillian, eyes revealing how hurt she was.

Gillian moved fractionally forward. She dropped her eyes to the bed, finally admitting the truth. “I can’t afford to lose you Caroline. P-please, forgive me.”

Caroline sighed, sleep-tousled blonde hair covering the brief sting of tears. She knew herself well enough to know that she’d overreacted but she was likely to misconstrue things dumped on her straight after she’d woken up. It was a shock, that’s all. She took a deep breath and tried to regain some equilibrium. She was so unaccustomed to anyone thinking she was attractive that she automatically thought Gillian must have been having a laugh at her expense. But she knew it wasn’t the case, and that scared her even more.

She clamped her eyes shut. Was Gillian actually attracted to her? Gillian was straight for heaven’s sake. How many blokes had she shagged? And she’d married two of them. She shook her head. Well that didn’t mean anything; Caroline had multiple marriages as well. Not the same but her sense of superiority in this area had diminished as the reality of being a single parent and a widow at 52 obliterated any realistic chances of finding a partner. Gillian, attracted to her? She just couldn’t fathom it. If it was true, just what was she supposed to do with the information? It was just too early in the day to deal with it. She stared at the ground, surprised again by the purple toenails at the end of her feet. A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she thought of Flora painting them.

Caroline glanced at Gillian, a rueful smile flitting across her face. “It’s okay. You’re not going to lose me. Never going to happen.” She reached out to gently squeeze Gillian’s hand. “We’ll be fine.”

Caroline trudged to the bathroom to start her day, pulling memories of Gillian from the files in her brain, trying to find the times Gillian had complimented her. She’d review them all. Maybe she’d been a blind twat and missed a cue or something that might cast some light on the current confusion with Gillian. It would give her something to think about while the others played on the beach. It would be a diversion, better than the mental gymnastics she’d planned, knowing she’d be unable to truly relax in a public space in a strange country, limited to the language and play of young children, as entertaining as those two were. She’d watch the kids, and Gillian, and work out what the hell she’d missed.

A plan in place, Caroline stepped into the shower and into the day.

  


* * *

  


The small group from West Yorkshire had a very pleasant day spent playing in the shallows along the promenade of Barceloneta. The sand was bright and fine, and made wonderful castles. Gillian had reused the wax-coated bucket that held the chips they’d had with lunch and had inspired Calam to build a castle with a moat. Flora joined in and she sculpted the towers for the maidens. It didn’t escape Gillian’s notice that the fair-haired Rapunzel, as described by Flora, was strikingly similar to the blonde sitting not far away reading a travel guide for Spain. It also didn’t pass her notice that the travel guide was upside down for at least half an hour before Caroline became aware of it, at which point she coughed and turned it the right way up.

Gillian chuckled to herself, a frisson of joy sparking through her at the thought of discombobulating Caroline so completely. It was obvious she was distracted, that something was pulling at her mind throughout the day. In some ways it was a bit of a relief, as it gave them both some time to recover from the suntan lotion incident earlier.

A broad grin erupted on Gillian’s face as she remembered that little moment. They’d arrived and set up towels on the beach, in full view of the glossy W-hotel on the small promontory that provided an escape into the middle of the bay. Gillian had managed to put sunscreen on herself and Calamity before handing the tube back to Caroline to put some on Flora and herself. Caroline had missed a bit the previous day and the explosion of red skin and darker freckles on her shoulders was telling under the baggy cotton shirt that hung off her left shoulder. 

“Let me help you with that Caz.”

While Caroline smeared the suntan lotion over her arms, Gillian dropped down beside her on the sand. Gillian picked up the tube and crawled on her knees to sit behind Caroline, heat coursing through her at the thought of massaging the lotion into Caroline’s skin. She held herself steady, careful to control her breathing as her hands dropped onto the soft skin in front of her.

The last time Gillian had run her hands over another woman’s skin she’d been 15 years old and mucking about with one of her school friends. That’s all it had been, mucking about, but she’d forgotten until recently how touching a woman was so demonstrably different to touching a man. It wasn’t the palpable texture or differences in hair or scent, but something much more intangible. There was something sensual, perhaps even emotional, about any shared touch with Caroline. For months she had been carefully remembering moments, running over them in her head for hours afterwards; a brush of an arm, a touch to a cheek, the squeeze of a shoulder. She longed for them and would engineer them with Caroline, and like a thief of touch she would steal whatever she could whenever she thought she might get away with it.

Now with an opportunity to touch Caroline in such an innocent way, it was so potentially thrilling that once again she was a thief. Slowly and deliberately she spread the lotion over Caroline’s shoulders, reaching down the top of the arms. It was a sensual delight, the waves and the seagulls and the world fading away as the smooth sound of the lotion sliding over Caroline’s soft skin caressed her ears. Unintentionally she brushed the side of Caroline’s breast at one point and the quiet gasp she heard hit her low in the belly. She paused for a moment, the adrenaline flooding her system following the spike of fear she’d be asked to stop, and so quietly she continued, counting the freckles on the canvas of Caroline’s back as her fingers danced down to where the swimsuit began.

The smoothness of Caroline’s skin, its supple texture was tantalising. Realising that Caroline had closed her eyes encouraged Gillian to keep going long after the lotion had covered the desired area. Eventually she had to stop, carefully pulling Caroline’s shirt back into place. That was when she saw Caroline’s hard, tell-tale nipples, clearly visible under the layers of the shirt and the bathing suit. It was then that Gillian knew. Caroline could deny it all she likes, but it wasn’t a cold day; there was only one likely reason for a physical reaction like that. And knowledge like that had power. Gillian could do something with that sort of information. A plan took shape. Maybe it was time for Caroline to let her hair down. Gillian spent the rest of the day happily playing with the girls, surreptitiously watching Caroline wrestling with something in her head.

For Caroline, the day was a mixture of bliss and torture. Bliss because she spent it with Gillian and the girls, and torture because bloody Gillian had given her a shoulder massage in the guise of putting on suntan lotion and she had spent it with her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands in an effort not to whimper out loud. It hadn’t helped when Gillian’s hand had brushed the side of her breast and with no context, as Caroline had no idea whether it had been intentional. The sensuality of Gillian’s touch had been mesmerising. She’d had to close her eyes, transported to another planet entirely as rough-textured hands carefully caressed her body. By the end of it she was so aroused she didn’t dare take off her shorts for fear that her bathers would be tellingly wet without her having been near the water. Instead she spent the day baking on the sand, pretending to read a book while she perused the back catalogue of her interactions with Gillian, trying to spot the patterns of affection and desire.

She had come to a conclusion by the end of the day though; her body was clearly responding to Gillian in a way that hadn’t happened in a long, long time, and Gillian had been quietly showing interest in her as more than a friend for many months. She could kick herself for being so daft. She didn’t know if it was just another sign of her arrogance, her social ineptitude, or if it was fear of things changing the friendship they’d so carefully cultivated.

Chased by the darkening clouds of the coming storm, the sun headed for the horizon and the little ones started to fade. The happy, sandy group headed back to the townhouse, the girls falling into a lazy silence and the women keeping to themselves, both mulling over a day of quiet revelation. There was obvious tension between Caroline and Gillian, exacerbated by the charged air before the storm. The potential for change was palpable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Rapunzel, by the Brothers Grimm, 1812._


	4. Alice’s Aventures in Wonderland

The long day of sand, surf and sun had worked its magic and exhausted the girls more than usual. Gillian manoeuvred the grizzly kids through quick showers immediately upon arriving home while Caroline whipped up eggs on toast for them, something to fill their bellies so they didn’t wake up hungry at midnight. After brushing their teeth, both girls fell into bed without the usual protest, eyes shut before the light was turned off, not even awake enough to ask for a bedtime story. It left the women alone and without the children they’d been using as a conversational buffer all day.  
  
Unspoken tension crackled in the air as they cleaned up after the day, showering to wash the sand and salt off themselves. Eventually meeting back in the kitchen, the weight of the evening’s potential brought purpose to every movement. Gillian surreptitiously noticed Caroline’s hand shaking slightly as she poured them both a Rioja, her normal precision fractionally off-kilter.

The silence between them was filled by the sound of food preparation, a small charcuterie platter all they wanted after a heavy meal at lunchtime on the beach. Caroline watched as Gillian washed the fruit, water cascading down her fingers as she worked, the grapes a rich burgundy that set off the tanned, muscular forearms. Caroline swallowed hard, reluctantly dropping her eyes to focus on unwrapping the cheese before reaching for the paper-thin slivers of Iberico Jamon that had become part of their nightly indulgence, along with usually one too many cocktails.  
  
Gillian finished washing the grapes and plonked them in the middle of the platter. She grinned when Caroline couldn’t help herself, rearranging them more neatly so the colours and shapes complemented one another.  
  
“Y’right there, Caz?”  
  
A small huff was the response, followed by, “Okay. I know.”

Caroline glanced at Gillian, the friendly smile on the farmer’s face offering calm. _It was Gillian. They’d be okay._ Caroline felt some of the tension leave her shoulders and she responded with a nervous, crooked smile, one that warmed as they gazed at one another.  
  
Gillian was thanking the gods for the rare gift of being on the receiving end of such beneficence she didn’t quite believe she deserved. It was like being blessed by an angel, although she knew Caroline was not that. She was stuck by how beautiful Caroline looked in the waning light. The Spanish sun had kissed her fair complexion just enough to give it a lustrous glow and the freckles were dancing on her skin as she moved. Gillian wanted to wander aimlessly around the freckles with her fingertips but contained herself, silently pondering whether the absence of makeup on Caroline’s face was a result of their conversation that morning. 

As they sauntered towards the courtyard, Gillian could barely hold her wine steady as she followed the luscious swaying of Caroline’s arse outside. A breeze blew through the courtyard and she caught the scent of Caroline’s freshly showered skin, almost causing the farmer to stumble.  
  
A roll of thunder not far away gave warning of the approaching storm, but the warmth of the evening was enticing and they reclined on their lounge chairs, hoping to have time enough to relax before the rain found them. Sipping wine and languidly picking at the food, both were careful their hands didn’t meet over the platter.  
  
Caroline, fortified by half a glass of Rioja and driven by an anxious need for clarity, eventually broached the subject they’d both been avoiding all day.  
  
“Gillian,” she paused, the prickling of uncertainty sharpening under her ribs, “You know when you were...massaging...the suntan lotion on my shoulders...” She paused again, taking another sip of wine for courage, “Did you mean, to, you know...” Caroline finally ran out of steam, the question only half asked as she nervously played with her glass.  
  
Gillian sat up, alert to the pitfalls of the query. _Damned if you do; damned if you don’t_ , she thought, wondering which way Caroline wanted her to answer. She could be honest, which was her inclination. She was usually right when it came to attraction between people and the telling arousal of Caroline’s nipples on the beach had given her the final clue that made her decide it was time to show her cards.  
  
She cleared her throat, tripping over the words, not sure which combination would get her what she wanted.  
  
“Um, no, d-didn’t mean to, but...” she looked up to see Caroline staring at her intensely, desire clear in her eyes. Gillian sat up straighter before casually twisting to face Caroline, now certain of their attraction. “Did y’a like it?”  
  
Caroline froze, the response not one she’d expected, and now the ball was firmly back in her court. Gillian wasn’t going to make this simple _. How the hell was she supposed to answer that? To be honest would mean admitting it; admitting she wanted Gillian, and even with all the signs, it was too easy to get it wrong. She’d made mistakes before and if she made one now, then where would she be? A lesbian making a pass at a straight woman; far too likely to—_  
  
A loud crash of thunder seemingly just over the wall made both women jump out of their chairs as the heavens suddenly opened and it poured with heavy rain. Grabbing the food and wine they dashed inside, the shock of the rain bringing a visceral awareness of their physical surroundings. They dumped everything down on the kitchen bench and turned to stare at the sheets of water now flooding the courtyard. As they watched the storm, they became acutely aware of just how close they were.  
  
Energised by the storm, the air electrified, Gillian leaned towards Caroline. 

Eyes wide, Caroline watched as water dripped down Gillian’s face onto her rain-drenched shirt. She followed the path of the water until it stopped, absorbed by the wet cotton clinging to the top of Gillian’s breasts; breasts round and neat, moving with skittish breathing. Caroline’s lips parted and her mind cleared of everything other than the sensuous sight in front of her. After several mesmerising seconds, Caroline dragged her gaze up to find Gillian watching her, their eyes connecting with an erotic intensity. Time seemed to unhitch from its moorings, rendering these precious moments in slow motion. She leaned back against the bench, needing something to help steady her shaky legs.  
  
Gillian stepped forward, so close she could hear the sound of Caroline’s breathing despite the heavy downpour outside. There was no mistaking the blonde’s interest or the brunette’s intention as Gillian slid her fingers around the back of Caroline’s damp neck, bringing their lips together in a soft kiss, the luxurious tenderness of it swamping Caroline’s resistance.  
  
The last small voice of reason cried out inside Caroline’s head, gripping onto responsibility like the crutch it was. Breathless, Caroline pulled away, having trouble dragging her eyes from the thickly kissed lips she had just traced with her tongue, tasting the wine, the rich saltiness of the jamon.

“This is...ah, I think...should—”  
  
Gillian nodded, and kept nodding, staring at Caroline’s lips. “We should. Definitely.”  
  
“Where is this going to take us?”  
  
“That depends on where you want to end up.”

“But it’s...” Caroline continued, stumbling over the thought, terrified she was again making a mistake. “Is this what you want?” She ran her fingers up Gillian’s ribcage, fingers caressing like they had a mind of their own.  
  
“Yeah. I do Caz.” Gillian leaned forward to kiss Caroline gently before momentarily capturing Caroline’s bottom lip with her teeth, a whimper the result before she let it go.

“Oh god, I knew who I was this morning,” Caroline admitted, finding it hard to breathe, desire firing through her body.  
  
“Bet you’ve changed a few times since then, Alice,” Gillian murmured, lips searching Caroline’s neck until she found the spot that made Caroline cling to her. Caroline’s breathy moan was a quiet revelation. It was the most beautiful sound.  
  
Gillian kissed along Caroline’s jaw until she found the softest lips she had ever kissed. The stubbly-bearded faces she normally explored were so very different to Caroline’s. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel about kissing a woman, kissing Caroline, but it was intoxicating. For the first time in decades it felt new and exciting. She was an adventurer, forging a path in her own life rather than following the same six-inch wide sheep track she’d been stuck on for years. It had been 17 years since Eddie, and not once since then had she truly cared about someone she’d slept with. Compromises for 17 years, and now this, a snotty bitch who was beautiful and smart and damaged, sometimes clinging to edge of coping, just like she was.  
  
This time was different. It was overwhelming; Gillian’s heart pounded out of her chest. She was jittery with excitement, terrified Caroline might stop at some point, that this was going to hurt Caroline, but the slow, sensual kisses had Gillian melting in Caroline’s arms, the pleasure of it divine. It seemed impossible that Caroline hadn’t taken this further already, but the teasing gentleness of it had her lost, and she was only vaguely aware when Caroline stopped, allowing both of them to catch their breath. Caroline’s hand caressed her cheek, their foreheads rested against one another.  
  
“Jesus Gillian. You...” Caroline leaned back to look into Gillian’s eyes. “Isn’t this...I thought you’d... never been...you know, with a woman before? Or, or, have I—”  
  
“No no. I haven’t. Not yet,” Gillian said with a smirk. “I mucked around...when I was young, but...I mean the plumbin’s a bit different, but the principle, that’s the same.” She slowly combed her fingers into the damp undergrowth of blonde hair at the back of Caroline’s neck, holding her steady while the other hand reached under Caroline’s top to cup a breast, the weight of it surprising, the hardness of the nipple under the thumb erotic.  
  
Gillian played with Caroline’s nipple, fascinated by the blissful expression on Caroline’s face.  
  
“We’ve hardly started and you’re...” She couldn’t believe someone could be that responsive. It was a revelation, to be with someone so sensual. She wanted to dissolve time itself, to spend eternity just seeing how to keep that expression on Caroline’s face, how to make her make those noises. She trailed wet kisses up Caroline’s neck with lips and tongue, needing to taste the skin now becoming salty. Uncontainable desire was making her lose her grip on reality.  
  
“Have I gone mad?” She murmured into Caroline’s neck, breath hot on the skin.  
  
Caroline shivered, almost desperate with arousal, doing her best to slow things down for Gillian. She remembered the madness of her own first time, when expectation fell away and the erotic feast of another woman’s body lay before her, a sharp awareness of the social contract that would forever after lie in tatters.  
  
Caroline’s hand slid over Gillian’s well-toned bottom, pulling the brunette in tight before whispering seductively into her ear. “I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are!”  
  
Gillian chuckled, low and carnal. “We’re in it together then, Caz.”  
  
Curious to see what Caroline would do next, Gillian gently pushed the blonde back against the fridge and captured Caroline’s lips with her own. Tender and sweet to start, delight quickly gave way to intoxication as fingers sought skin, the damp heat of the storm adding to the intensity of their passion and it was several minutes before either came up for air.  
  
Gillian stood back, breath ragged and blood racing. She gazed into Caroline’s steel blue eyes, desire as clear as the warmth of their connection.  
  
“Take me to bed, Caz.” She smiled invitingly, eyes dancing, needing the answer to be ‘Yes’.  
  
Caroline stepped close again and with a gentle kiss on Gillian’s lips, gathered a hand in hers. She whispered in Gillian’s ear, “Oh, it would be my pleasure,” thrilled by the gasp from Gillian. She gave a gentle tug of the farmer’s rough hand and with a voice made deep by arousal, said quietly, “Follow me.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, 1865**  
>  Quotes from Goodreads  
> https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/alice-in-wonderland?page=1  
>   
>  _“I knew who I was this morning, but I've changed a few times since then.”_  
>  _“Where should I go?"-Alice. "That depends on where you want to end up."-The Cheshire Cat._  
>  _“Have I gone mad??” “I'm afraid so! You're entirely bonkers! but I'll tell you a secret ..... All the best people are!”_


	5. Peta and Wendy

The storm had moved on, its fury destined for another town, another country. In the crisp, fresh air left in its wake, Caroline lay on her back, an arm protectively around Gillian as they slept. Gillian snuggled in closer under the blanket, sliding her arm further around Caroline as the first stirrings of wakefulness threatened to tear her from her dream.  
  
The motor from the fridge kicked in, the noise just one thing too many and Gillian’s eyelids popped open. A millisecond later the biggest grin she’d worn in years was plastered on her face, the jubilation and excitement hard to contain. She couldn’t quite believe it; memories of slow touches, soft sighs and laughter filled her mind.  
  
Gillian had known it would be different. Sex with Caroline was always going to be different than the normal pillocks she shagged, but she hadn’t expected just _how_ different it would be. Gone was the commonly selfish tab A, slot B variety of sex, and instead it had been a night of sensual exploration, filled with the joy of touch and talking and listening. Listening! When had she ever been with a bloke who listened! She was, however, self-aware enough to know that this possibly had more to do with the type of men she chose than anything else.  
  
_“What do you like?” Caroline had asked, her hands gently brushing over Gillian’s belly, following the curve of her body, tracing the pattern of ribs and around the curve of her breasts until fingers slowly circled nipples. “Mmmm, I like these,” Caroline added, moving to capture a nipple between her lips, hands joining in the caress while Gillian arched into the touch._  
  
Gillian squirmed at the memory before tantalising flashes of exploring every inch of Caroline’s beautiful body took over. It had been a gluttonous feast of sensuality as she committed every sigh, every moan, every movement to memory while she worked out what turned Caroline on. Something had shifted deep inside Gillian. She had no idea what it was; she felt the same, and yet completely different.  
  
Lost in the mental replay of the night’s lovemaking, Gillian was unaware of the footsteps until too late. The door opened and Calamity burst into the room.  
  
“Hiya! Are you up? When are we going on the cable car? Is it going to be really high? Can we see everything from up there? How are we...” The rapid-fire questioning stopped as she noticed her gran yanking up the blanket, covering their naked shoulders.  
  
Finally noticing the lack of pyjamas, Calam asked innocently, “Are you naked? Why?”  
  
Caroline, barely awake, slowly pulled the blanket over her head, leaving only an eruption of blonde hair visible on the pillow.   
  
Gillian cleared her throat before offering, “Well, see, we got wet, last night, in the rain, see, and we took off our—“  
  
“Why did you get wet?”  
  
“It was, we were, um, there was a storm, see, and—“  
  
Calamity looked confused. “So...”  
  
“Well sometimes when you’re, when, um, when you’re older, you get...” Gillian ploughed her way through the bullshit, hoping something would work. Any other day she’d be proud of her smart and canny granddaughter, but now, caught with her hands on the Caroline-shaped cookie jar, this was not the day for it.  
  
It was then she felt the bed shaking and looked at the blonde hair moving on the pillow, realised Caroline was laughing.  
  
“You’re no help, you cow,” she mumbled. Trying to end the conversation once and for all, she declared in a rush, “We got caught in the rain and took our wet clothes off so we wouldn’t get sick. We didn’t want to miss taking you to ride the cable car today.”  
  
A muffled screech of laughter came from under the blanket and Calamity put her hands on her hips, a behaviour she’d picked up recently from Ellie.  
  
“I think,” Calamity stated definitively, not having any idea of what had transpired, but very aware that something secret was going on, “That you and Aunt Caroline—“  
  
“Don’t!” Gillian jumped in, finger already pointing, trying to do the serious parent routine while lying next to a naked Caroline who was now openly laughing under the blanket. “Don’t even think it. Don’t say it. Nope. Zip. It.”  
  
Calamity stared at her for a moment, and then inspiration struck, followed by a big, knowing smile. “So you don’t want me to tell Great Granny about it?”  
  
Gillian stared at her, mouth agape, the bind she was in becoming crystal clear. _Great. A moment of pleasure and now a five year old has blackmail material on me._ Quietly she said, “No. I don’t.”  
  
Calamity shrugged, a devilish grin on her face. “Okay.” She turned flamboyantly and sashayed out of the bedroom.  
  
Gillian poked Caroline in the ribs. “You were no help.”  
  
Caroline pulled the blanket down from the top of her head and, after checking the coast was clear, turned to Gillian, still chuckling. “I guess that means ice cream whenever she wants it for the next hundred years,” a laugh starting again.

Hearing Calamity tell Flora she thought they were sleeping naked like her parents sometimes do, all Gillian could do was sigh. “God help us Caz. We’re stuffed.”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Montjuic loomed over the edge of Barcelona, topped with the obligatory castle dating back to the 1600s. Facing the sea and with views of the surrounding plains, the hill was a natural lookout post and the last line of defence for the Catalans at the northern end of Spain. At the base of the hill the four travellers stepped into the cable car to carry them up the mountain. They’d managed to avoid some of the crush of tourists by arriving early, but there were still enough people to ensure the car was full.  
  
Crammed along one side of the rectangular cable car—or vertical silver coffin, as Gillian thought when she saw it—the Greenwoods and McKenzie-Dawsons held on as the large wheels above the car started turning, jolting them out of the docking station and along the rickety wire cable up the mountain.  
  
The girls were very excited, pointing out the tops of trees and when the car rose higher, parts of the city and the bay they could recognise. Flora was astounded she could see the beach and the sea, but Calamity was captivated by the disappearing buildings in the middle of the town.

Caroline had a captivation all her own, as Gillian slyly stood behind her, and with the excuse of holding on, had one hand around Caroline’s waist and the other under her pale blue shirt. Hyper aware of the rough hand caressing her belly and moving up to the bottom of her breasts, Caroline’s eyes were focused on infinity, oblivious to the view before her.

“Yes Flora. I can see the beach we were on yesterday,” she intoned, head pointed the wrong direction entirely.  
  
Gillian snorted. “Yeah, it’s a grand beach,” raising her hand even higher, until it was grabbed reluctantly by the blonde before Calamity noticed.  
  
Caroline cleared her throat loudly. “So...what’s the plan today Gillian? Shall we see the castle or the gardens first?”  
  
The girls jumped up and down, eagerly yelling, “Castle! Castle!” until Gillian chuckled and agreed, telling the girls not to jump when she noticed the dirty looks from a white-knuckled passenger.  
  
The cable-car lurched to a stop and they alighted at the top of the hill, the girls skipping ahead, barely able to contain their excitement about being in a real castle. Aware the girls were starting to irritate some of the older tourists, Caroline shushed them and held on to Flora’s hand, keeping her close by. Gillian understood immediately and they formed a daisy chain, adults at each end, linking hands as they wandered through the castle, ensuring the little explorers didn’t get lost playing hide and seek among the weaponry, or fall off the battlements.  
  
The girls were only fractionally calmer half an hour later when they emerged from the Castell. Caroline followed Gillian and they both trailed after the girls into the gardens, bright flowers and greenery everywhere. Caroline realised by the time they’d made it to a quiet part of the garden, subtly partitioned by shrubbery, she was no longer seeing plants any more, but keenly watching Gillian. Gillian’s summer dress ebbed and flowed around her thighs in the breeze, making Caroline jealous of the little red flowers on the green vines winding around Gillian’s lithe body. The shimmering of the dress in the sunshine was a mirage and Caroline knew she’d been lost in the desert of celibacy for too long. Olga had been a salve to grief, but this was something else entirely.  
  
The previous night had been miraculous. She finally understood why men were panting after Gillian, as she felt the same after a single night. There was a magnetic pull to Gillian’s sexuality, a hunger that mixed boldness with the inquisitive, tenderness with delight. Caroline hadn’t quite believed it was possible for such small hands to be everywhere all at once, but her body felt gloriously travelled. Her skin tingled with the energy of it. She guessed she shouldn’t be surprised by Gillian, for while she was so experienced with men, last night was something delightfully fresh for them both. And for Caroline, it was the first time she’d felt truly seen in years. She felt alive in a way that revealed just how flat she’d been for so long.  
  
Caroline knew that Gillian was strong-minded as well as strong, but it wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Gillian’s natural assertiveness appeared. Caroline was used to being in charge, so it was a bit of a revelation. Kate had rarely allowed that side of herself out to play, and Caroline had been too selfishly mired in grief and need at the time and had simply not given Olga the option.

Caroline absentmindedly massaged the top of her thigh, eyes vacantly watching the girls while she remembered the exact moment things shifted; Gillian had refused to let Caroline continue her own exploration, flipped her over like she was a featherweight and gently but firmly proceeded to take her. Caroline writhed in the sun, the memory of it hotter than she’d ever imagined it would be. Being topped was not something she really thought she’d like, but with Gillian, all sorts of possibilities arose. Relinquishing control, even for a moment, was now a blessed relief. How could she have known that Gillian had that rare gift of existing between hard and soft, gentle and passionate, top and bottom? She felt more sexually awake than she’d been in years. There was nothing like great sex to need more of it, but what the hell was she going to do? The only thing she was sure of was that the sun was taking forever to get to the horizon, and until then, she and Gillian couldn’t be alone. She closed her eyes and raised her face to the heavens; how on earth was she going to make it until then?

* * *

  
  
Gillian sat astride Caroline on a lounge chair, the cool evening air in the courtyard refreshing after the warmth of the day. The languorous kisses while they picked at the charcuterie and drank sangria was a memory Caroline knew she’d treasure forever. Laughing at the day, the children, the secretive touches they’d shared bonded them tightly, until the world seemed filled only by them.  
  
Gillian picked up a grape and temptingly ran it along Caroline’s bottom lip until Caroline’s mouth opened, accepting it. Gillian’s fingers were pulled into Caroline’s mouth, a tongue wrapping around them, making Gillian gasp. She had no idea Caroline would be so sensual, or that being with her would be so erotic. Gillian had been in a state of arousal all day, so close to coming sometimes that her body was humming with need.  
  
She picked up Caroline’s glass, and hovering it temptingly near Caroline’s mouth asked, “Would you like an adventure now, or would you like to have your sangria first?”  
  
“Both,” Caroline replied, sitting up to take the glass from Gillian’s hand, her mouth reaching for the column of Gillian’s throat, lips gently exploring for long minutes, until she paused for a drink.  
  
Putting the drink on the table, Caroline looked at Gillian more seriously.  
  
“Gillian, I know last night was your first time with a woman, and I know that can...change...things.” She gulped, sliding into awkward now she’d made the bold first step. “I’m not...very good...at things, sometimes, but I want you to know—”  
  
“It’s okay Caz. I’m okay.” Gillian cupped Caroline’s cheek gently with one hand before trailing down the shirt to massage her breast, thumb brushing softly over a hardening nipple. She continued in a voice that no one has ever yet been able to resist, “Caz, one girl is more use than twenty boys.”  
  
Caroline laughed, her face crinkled in delight. “I never thought I’d hear you say that,” she nodded chuckling, before becoming more serious. “No, really, if you, um, want to talk...about things...”  
  
Gillian nodded. “Thanks, Caz. It were nice, the two of us.” Thoughtful for a moment, she leaned forward slowly, taking Caroline’s earlobe gently between her teeth. “You’re very sexy. I had no idea.”  
  
Caroline’s breath caught. Her hands slid up from Gillian’s hips to pull her in for a passionate kiss, leaving them both gasping for air by the end of it. She took a moment to recover and a then a lustful smile pulled at Caroline’s mouth as she reached for a slice of watermelon, carefully holding one end of it in her teeth. She leaned forward, offering the rest of it to Gillian. Their kiss, slow and wet and flavoured by sweet, juicy watermelon had Gillian starting to grind her hips into Caroline’s thighs.  
  
“Well, you are a ff-surprise,” Gillian murmured. “What happened to the Cazza from back home? This one’s full of ff-bloody pixie dust!”  
  
Caroline smirked, before quoting, “All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust. Didn’t you know?” And in that moment, Caroline almost believed it.  
  
Gillian chuckled, tucking a lock of Caroline’s hair behind an ear.  
  
“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it. Mmmm, I used to think that too, but...” Gillian became more serious as she recalled her past, thinking of the farm and Raff and her dad. “So what are we going to do when we get home?” she asked, seductively combing her fingers through Caroline’s hair, distracted by the delight of finally getting her hands in the glorious blonde crown.  
  
Caroline closed her eyes, a look of loss and defeat flashing across her face, the weight of the past and the grindingly heavy obligations at home pulling her from the joy of the moment. She suddenly looked older than her 52 years and a sadness hung in her voice. Her fingers softly traced the contours of Gillian’s face, as if marking them into her memory. “Nothing. We’re going to do nothing, because we have to grow up when we get home.”  
  
“So you’re saying that we stop, that this is it?” Gillian held her breathe, waiting for confirmation of the death of this precious thing between them, feeling that it was more than a simple ending.  
  
“I’m thinking of everyone at home. The kids, well, they’ll cope, but my mum...and there’s your dad...” Caroline shifted so she could place her other hand gently above Gillian’s heart, giving it a couple of light taps before continuing, “with his heart to think about.”

“So this...this...” Gillian pushed the stab of bitterness deep into her belly, where it could reside with all of the rest of her betrayals. Accustomed to finding the sliver of joy still left in any situation, she allowed the caress of Caroline’s hand on her face bringing it to the surface. Gillian sat up slowly, choosing her words carefully.  
  
“What you’re saying is...what happens in Barcelona, stays in Barcelona? We don’t...after...”  
  
“No.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“It’s too hard Gillian. Too many people could get hurt, and I don’t want...” Caroline grimaced, a flash of deep sadness coursing through her, “And I know you don’t either.” Caroline pulled Gillian into her, enveloping her in a tight hug. “I’m sorry. I...I don’t know how to do this.”

Caroline meant that she didn’t know how to do this at home. It was so different since Kate. She’d been single, or functionally single, for nearly 5 years and she didn’t know she could do the public lesbian thing again. And she didn’t know if she had the strength to fight her mum any more. It was easier just to avoid the confrontation, sidestep the intrusive questions, and avoid intimacy altogether. It was all so wearing. She felt crushed, like capitulation to her own fear was suffocating her. Tired of being lonely, tired of chasing her own shadow, she knew it was something she needed to work on. 

“I’m sorry. I really am.”  
  
Gillian couldn’t stop the tears from escaping, and she pulled apart from Caroline, roughly wiping her tears away in frustration.  
  
“No, I get it. It’s okay. It’s...it’s...the right thing to do.” She knew this was what happened whenever she found something nice, something for her. Any small slice of pleasure was only ever fleeting, a temporary port in the tempest. She breathed in, and breathed out, and plastered a smile on her face. She could do this, for Caroline. For herself. “So, Caroline, where do we go for our last few nights?  
  
Caroline, yearning to extend this bewitching sojourn as Gillian’s lover, couldn’t help but gratefully, wistfully respond to the cheeky imp on her lap. “Second star to the right and straight on till morning,” she murmured quietly, grasping at the hope they might be able to get over the hurdle of what happens next. Tenderly, so tenderly, Caroline reached up and took Gillian’s face in her hands, and kissed her. Slowly, gently, lovingly. She communicated all the love she had for this woman with the part of her soul that transcended fear, until the kiss gradually deepened between them. 

Every night for the rest of the week they spent entangled, careful and considerate of one another, both women working to keep their lovemaking light and joyful. Playful. But there were moments when they’d catch each other from falling, and the bittersweet potency of it seared into their souls, threatening to upend their agreement. Each time this happened, it was Gillian who would rescue them, sprinkling just enough fairy dust to keep Caroline flying high in the air. For that, Caroline would be eternally grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Peter and Wendy by J.M. Barrie, 1904 (play), 1911 (novel)**  
>  Quotes from https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1358908-peter-pan  
>   
>  _“Wendy," Peter Pan continued in a voice that no woman has ever yet been able to resist, "Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys.”_  
>  _“Would you like an adventure now, or would like to have your tea first?”_  
>  _“Because I have to grow up tomorrow.”_  
>  _“But, Peter, how do we get to Never Land?”_  
>  “There it is, Jane. Second star to the right and straight on till morning”  
>  _“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust”_  
>  _“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.”_


	6. Princess and the Pea

Gillian felt reality crash down around her even before their plane touched down on English soil. She thought she was ready to resume her solitary life but she fell asleep during the flight and had a dream about Caroline; Caroline, in a pristine pair of wellies, backing her up against a fence post on the farm, her soft hands tucked inside the tired barn jacket, snaking past the opened flannel shirt until they grazed peaked nipples straining against the white t-shirt, tired cotton the only thing standing between the manicured fingertips and the breathless farmer. The sound of the air whooshing and the feel of the engines slowing down to prepare for landing woke her just as she was pulling Caroline to her.  
  
“You all right there, Sleeping Beauty?” Caroline enquired, watching a red flush creep up Gillian’s tanned chest, the colour reaching her face as she stretched in the seat, working out some of the stiffness from her body that had settled in from sleeping upright.  
  
Avoiding the question, Gillian responded, “I’ll head for the luggage as soon as we get through customs, if you’ll get a luggage cart with the girls.” The smile in Caroline’s eyes told her she had been caught out, but the nod of her head told her Caroline understood her need to talk practicalities.  
  
Gillian was at the luggage carousel waiting for their bags while the girls played Ring Around the Caroline. The blonde was too busy managing a disappointment sharper than she’d anticipated at the thought of losing her close connection with Gillian to get the girls under control. Distracted and out of sorts, she knew she risked spoiling their last moments together as they clutched onto the remnants of the holiday, but she couldn’t help herself. Reality was closing in every second they were on home turf and she was almost breathless with loss again.  
  
Caroline shook her head and straightened up, managing a smile for Gillian that spread to her eyes when she caught the farmer’s gaze.  
  
“We can do this, right?” Caroline asked, looking for assurance from Gillian, as the lightness of the last few nights with Gillian slipped further from her grasp.  
  
Needing a moment to gather her bravado, Gillian turned her back to Caroline as she heaved the luggage into the trolly. “Right Batman, let’s begin as we mean to go on then. We can do this.”  


* * *

  
  
  
Normally it would take two weeks before a holiday existed as a faded memory, only to be reviewed when things became too bleak. This time the two women found the brief respite from the cloying air of daily life vanished only hours after coming home.   
  
The first month, Caroline and Gillian tried to settle back into their lives like they hadn’t spent a week of tantalising days and sensual nights together. Caroline had made an effort to see less of Gillian for a little while, just to make the transition back to step-sister mode a bit easier. Not that it had been, if she was really being honest with herself. She was fine until Gillian was close, but when the scent of her filled Caroline’s nostrils, sense memories threatened to rip Caroline from her moorings and she’d spend the rest of the day trying to reattach herself to the anchors of work, her mum, and Flora.  
  
Things were easier once Caroline mentally parked the dalliance as a minor contretemps in her mangled emotional landscape, right next to Olga, the ill-advised foray to escape from peri-menopause, exhaustion and grief. She knew Gillian was significantly more important to her, and deserved better, but it was a quick way to partition it in her head so she could move on. It was brutal but functional and with everything else on her plate, Caroline could live with that.  
  
For Gillian, life was a little more complex. The first month was tough in some ways, but a significant shift had also quietly taken place. Gillian felt like she had grown into herself and had become more centred as a result. She was calmer, less likely to fly off the handle, and had more room for the errors and foibles of others. Mostly.  
  
Gillian thought of it as the Caroline Effect. She joked with herself that a week of shagging Caroline would cure anyone of their ills, but Gillian knew the effect was real, and she had been profoundly changed by it. The farmer had never really understood that she might be likeable, let alone loveable, and this opened up all sorts of possibilities once Caroline had shown her that. It was as if Gillian had found a prime bit of knowledge about herself, and it had subtly moved everything around inside.  
  
She had always thought of herself as rampantly heterosexual, and her time with Caroline had made her rethink that too. What became clearer as the days trudged by was that she had been socially trained not to notice women like that, so now she was seeing women differently, she realised there were alluring women everywhere.  
  
She had also become aware that while she could recognise an empirically good-looking woman, and the possibility of attraction, there really was only one person she actually wanted to shag. She’d learned that she did have a type that fascinated, and of course it had to be the one who was unavailable: the head bitch in charge herself, Caroline.  
  
Caroline had made it clear in Barcelona that she’d be retiring from the game, and had never shown any indication otherwise since the trip. She had given Gillian the occasional look of unmasked longing so raw that the farmer had been fixed to the ground while the world spun around her, but these moments were fleeting, so Gillian made do, settling into herself as a single woman once again.  
  
There were the odd temptations, but none she actually wanted to do anything with. Checking out young men was a reflex, a habit—like smoking; temporarily satisfying but bad for her health in the long run. She’d almost tried one on for size, mostly out of some devolved tendency she’d not been able to quite break. It had been awkward when she’d mistakenly admitted to Caroline that she had a date with the plumber from the irrigation supplies shop, but Caroline had been good about it and it had been less weird than she’d thought it would be. However, it had been clear as soon as she started snogging the bloke that it was an extraordinarily stupid idea and she’d managed to back out of the situation without too many hard feelings on his part.  
  
What she hadn’t counted on was a strange compulsion to tell Caroline that it hadn’t worked out as soon as she’d arrived home. She stripped off her dress and shoes and climbed into bed before reaching for her phone.  
  
_You up? Feel like a chat?_  
  
Hearing the phone ping, Ruth stirred on Caroline’s bed. With a tired sigh, Caroline laid the book open on her chest and picked up the phone, expecting it to be Lawrence or John in need of something. She’d become very adept at saying no to their nonsense, regardless of the hour.  
  
She patted Ruth, who laid her head back down on her front paws and looked asleep even before Caroline typed a response, which she then erased. She closed her book, placed it on her bedside table and called her midnight correspondent.  
  
“Didn’t think farmers kept such late hours,” Caroline said before Gillian could speak.  
  
“Were you sleeping?  
  
“Nope. Reading,” Caroline replied.   
  
Gillian looked at the framed photo of the four of them in Barcelona. She wondered what Caroline would make of her having it beside her bed. Thinking of Caroline’s own bedroom, a furtive smile rose up her face; Gillian had predicted Caroline’s resolve to not let the new dog upstairs wouldn’t last long.   
  
“How’s the dog? Still making her sleep downstairs at night or has she replaced me in your bed?”  
  
Caroline inhaled sharply and tried to ignore the sudden flush of heat through her body. Dodging the question deftly, she asked, “How did the date work out?”  
  
Gillian was hunting through the phone line for any sign of emotion from Caroline, particularly anything that might indicate jealousy, but the thin audio stream hid anything useful. Gillian continued, thankful the poor quality line also disguised the pretence of solely sisterly interest from her end. “I think he wanted to be my Prince Charming but he wasn’t really my type.”  
  
“So you called me to tuck you in with a story?”  
  
“Know any good ones?”  
  
“I might,” Caroline hedged, sitting up a little, a glint in her eye. Chuckling at the thought of Gillian as a perfect fit for the kind-hearted but rough around the edges princess, more sensitive than she ever appeared, Caroline poked at her phone and after a quick search, found what she was after. “Remember the _Princess and the Pea?”_  
  
“Not really. Are you going to give me the adults only version?” Gillian asked cheekily.  
  
Caroline cleared her throat, and with her mellifluous voice, started the tale.  
  
“One evening there was a terrible storm; it thundered and lightninged and the rain poured down in torrents; indeed it was a fearful night.”  
  
“Oh, so you’re giving us a reprise of our first...” Gillian interjected.  
  
“Ahem. There was a queen who was looking for a princess, for _her_ princess,” Caroline ad-libbed, pulling out the bits that worked for her story.  
  
Gillian chimed in, chuckling, “So the supportive Queen mum _isn’t_ Celia in this story then...”  
  
Caroline sidestepped the comment about her mum, preferring the fantasy of parental support for a change. “There were plenty of princesses, but whether they were real princesses she had great difficulty in discovering; there was always something which was not quite right about them.”  
  
Gillian, feeling brave, poked at one of Caroline’s exes. “There was that Olga person who turned into a bit of a stalker...”  
  
Caroline gave Gillian a dirty look down the phone for reminding her, before continuing, “It was a princess who stood outside, but she was in a terrible state from the rain and the storm. The water streamed out of her hair and her clothes; it ran over her bruised foot and through her red-painted toenails, but she said that she was a real princess.”  
  
“I love the story, Caz, but I never were princess, not even when I were a kid!”  
  
“So the queen went into the bedroom, took all the bed clothes off and laid a pea on the bedstead: then she took twenty mattresses and piled them on top of the pea, and then twenty feather beds on top of the mattresses. This was where the princess was to sleep that night.”  
  
Distracted by clearer memories of the voluptuous body that was sharing the bed with her at the time, Gillian muttered, “Well that bed were really soft—“  
  
Caroline rushed on, not leaving Gillian to finish her thought. “In the morning they asked her how she slept. ‘Oh terribly bad!’ said the princess. ‘I have hardly closed my eyes the whole night! Heaven knows what was in the bed. I seemed to be lying upon some hard thing, and my whole body is black and blue this morning. It was terrible!’  
  
“Yeah Caz. That’s called old age! And being a farmer...bollocking knees are shot and my elbow’s been giving me curry—”  
  
“So the queen saw at once that she must be a real princess because she felt the pea through twenty mattresses and twenty feather beds. Nobody but a real princess could have such a delicate skin.”  
  
“Bloody softy if you ask me,” grumbled Gillian, massaging her sore knee.  
  
“Maybe it’s time you change that lumpy old mattress and you’ll sleep a little better?”  
  
“What, so you’d have somewhere comfortable to sleep when you come over, Caz?”  
  
Too late, Caroline realised she’d stranded herself among land mines. She closed her eyes, mouthing the word _shit!_ while she mentally picked her way out to safety.  
  
“No, no. Just thinking of all the hard work you do and how a good night’s sleep would benefit you.” Caroline was thinking she sounded like an advertisement for a mattress company, blaming the late hour for her verbal fumble, until laughter filtered down the line.  
  
“You’re a mad cow, you know that? What are you like...”  
  
Which was Caroline’s trigger for her defences and she bristled, just as Gillian had anticipated.  
  
“Well if you would insist on—”  
  
“Caz! Caz. It’s all right.” Gillian changed the topic, giving Caroline a way out. “So are you and Flora coming to lunch on Sunday? Dad and Celia will be there, as will the rest of mine. I won’t serve peas,” she said with a smirk.  
  
The conversation back on more solid ground, they discussed arrangements for the coming weekend, both relieved to be safely playing step-sisters again.  


* * *

  
  
  
Gillian’s excursion with the plumber had pushed Caroline into actually asking Ruth, her Head of English, over for dinner. Caroline was not at all sure about Ruth, or about asking anyone over for dinner if she was honest, but if Gillian was making an effort to move on, she felt she had to show some interest in other people too. It was one thing to admit to yourself that you might be craving the companionship, the touch of a lover, but she knew it was entirely different to actually do something about it.  
  
The whole dating thing was not Caroline’s forte and it filled her with a drip-release of terror for days leading up to it. She prepared what she could and quietly stewed at night after Flora had gone to bed, going over all her recent interactions and the mixed signals with Ruth in her head, hopeful, but not at all sure she wasn’t imagining Ruth’s interest, and not at all convinced the idea of Ruth was more attractive than the reality of her.  
  
Adding to her busy week at work was Gillian’s and her birthday on the Friday. Thankfully it was at Gillian’s, so Caroline had left work early to help with the cooking, and they’d had a lovely time in the kitchen. It seemed to be neutral territory, with others popping in all the time for drinks and nibbles. It had been a fun evening and everyone had been getting along well during the dinner, until the woodworm came up. Money and the topic of Gillian was always a sore spot with the Queen mum, who’s temper eventually exploded all over the cheerful gathering, leaving devastation in its wake. It was a relief for everyone when Celia went home, and as always, Caroline was expected to clean up the damage left in her mum’s wake. She was tired of it and had long since run out of excuses for the poor behaviour. Thankful to be the only ones in the kitchen again, she and Gillian slipped into their companionable conversation while they washed the dishes.  
  
Caroline had offered to lend Gillian the money, knowing it was likely to be refused, but genuinely wanting to help. The discussion turned to Robbie and then Ruth, and then it happened. That moment Caroline would turn over in her head for days afterwards, quietly, when no one was about. That moment Gillian had held her, looked into her eyes and told her she was very attractive, told her she was a nice person, that she deserved nice things. It had been so long since anyone had said that, had seen her clearly enough to know that she needed to hear it. So used to being taken for granted, Gillian’s comments lanced through her and Caroline couldn’t find the words for any response. It was all she could do not to crumple, her emotions ran so close to the surface.  
  
On the way home, Caroline realised that it had been years since anyone had read her so well. After Barcelona, Gillian seemed to know Caroline’s emotional landscape better than she did. It was the sort of knowledge she expected in a partner, not a step-sister, and that triggered all sorts of feelings. She just didn’t feel equipped to deal with it. The fact that Gillian kept slipping under her emotional barriers was a trick of fate rather than anything else, she was sure of that.  
  
While Caroline drove home, Gillian sat in her kitchen drinking tea. The kids and Calamity had gone to bed, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She turned the last part of the evening over in her head, rolling through the tape of Caroline’s language and reactions, slowing down her memories of the times they touched, those smiles, those intense blue eyes, anything to embed them in her long-term memory.  
  
She had learned to treasure the little moments she had with Caroline. Tonight she’d squeezed Caroline’s shoulders in solidarity, managed to rub Caroline’s back when she’d fielded a cutting comment from her mum, and then there was that almost hug.  
  
Taking another gulp of warm tea, her mind kept replaying it, the fraction of time magnified and examined until the meaning of it almost fell apart. She had wanted to comfort Caroline, wanted to hold her. She’d so nearly slipped up, so nearly pulled her in tight. At the last second her hands had obeyed and she’d settled for touching Caroline’s arms. It had seemed safe enough, comforting enough, without leading them both into the territory too reminiscent of Barcelona.  
  
Gillian groaned, and dropped her head on the table with a thud. She felt like a thief again, hoarding chemtrails of intimacy that comforted her in the dark before burning off in the harsh light of the day.  
  
She had another gulp of tea, hand shaking slightly. Caroline was lovely. Caroline was lonely. Caroline was going on a BLOODY DATE!  
  
Gillian stood up suddenly, nearly pushing the chair over as she started to pace around the kitchen. How was she going to manage this? She knew a poor sheep farmer would never cut it, not long term, so if Caroline was lonely, she would find someone worthy for her. She couldn’t bear the thought of Caroline being unhappy. If she couldn’t log on and get Caroline dating through the Guardian, then at least she could drag her to Hebden Women’s Disco.  
  
Hearing the rain beginning to lash against her window and relieved to be sheltered from the storm, she swallowed the last bit of her tea. A plan in place, Gillian washed her cup and headed upstairs for another restless night on her lumpy mattress, hoping the woodworm would leave the beams in place for another day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Princess and the Pea by Hans Christian Andersen, 1835**   
>  _https://childhoodreading.com/the-princess-and-the-pea/_
> 
> _“One evening there was a terrible storm; it thundered and lightninged and the rain poured down in torrents; indeed it was a fearful night.”_  
>  _“There were plenty of princesses, but whether they were real princesses he had great difficulty in discovering; there was always something which was not quite right about them.”_  
>  _“It was a princess who stood outside, but she was in a terrible state from the rain and the storm. The water streamed out of her hair and her clothes; it ran in at the top of her shoes and out at the heel, but she said that she was a real princess.”_  
>  _“She went into the bedroom, took all the bed clothes off and laid a pea on the bedstead: then she took twenty mattresses and piled them on top of the pea, and then twenty feather beds on top of the mattresses. This was where the princess was to sleep that night.”_  
>  _“In the morning they asked her how she slept. ‘Oh terribly bad!’ said the princess. ‘I have hardly closed my eyes the whole night! Heaven knows what was in the bed. I seemed to be lying upon some hard thing, and my whole body is black and blue this morning. It is terrible!’”_  
>  _“They saw at once that she must be a real princess when she had felt the pea through twenty mattresses and twenty feather beds. Nobody but a real princess could have such a delicate skin.”_


	7. Winnie the Pooh

As the shock of Judith’s call inviting her on a date wore off, Caroline laughed at the absurdity of it. John had shagged Gillian. She’d shagged Gillian. And now John’s most recent shag was out to shag her. Fortunately, Judith held no interest for her and they’d not complete that circle. She’d never forget the look on John’s face when he realised the reason for Judith’s call, not even if she lived to be one hundred. Only absurd bed-hopping television scripts of the 1970s were less convoluted and more believable. It all helped reduce some of the lingering sting left by Ruth.  
  
It had been years since Caroline had felt quite so excoriated by a line, or a look of disgust, but Ruth had managed both in the space of a few minutes. Leaning heavily on the kitchen bench, Caroline had been almost surprised her innards weren’t spilling into the sink, such was the sense of her evisceration. She had been shocked that someone else’s homophobia had reached in and gutted her so easily; in the safety of her own home she simply hadn’t been prepared for it.  
  
Caroline had replayed the evening in her head for days afterwards, assessing what she’d missed, astonished at how easily her sense of self had been flayed. She’d worked so hard after Kate to build up her defences, to find some resilience to cope with single parenting and a busy, stressful job. She didn’t realise how unprepared she was for the sharpened claws of the wounded Ruth; she’d never seen them coming.  
  
Only days afterwards, Ruth had another spat, abandoning her post and dumping Caroline in the deep end, only minutes before Judith’s interview. Floundering, Caroline was talking herself down from panic when John threw her a lifeline. She almost liked him again for a moment, and it reminded her of why she’d married him in the first place. It did broker a peace of sorts between them, a willingness to move past the enmity of their divorce to a more cooperative place.  
  
It was then she’d realised what she was missing; she really needed a wife. She wanted all the benefits of John without the thousand and one irritations that go with him. And the sex. Oh, the sex. It really was high time for that! A week with Gillian in Barcelona had shown her how that could be a blissful priority.  
  
Gillian. The idea of her, the shape of her, the scent of her. The way they fitted together and understood each other. Caroline knew she needed help with Flora. If Gillian could help her logistically, and she could help Gillian financially, perhaps together they could make it work. Gillian couldn’t sell the farm; it would break her, so maybe, just maybe, this idea might work.  
  
As Caroline’s mind churned over dozens of possibilities, what became more obvious was the concrete and brick paths she’d strategically designed for her life didn’t follow her heart. The more she thought about what she wanted in her life, and the more she thought about the people with whom she wanted to spend it, the clearer the direction of her desire path became: Gillian.  
  
Gillian had made no overtures since Barcelona, and while she’d gone on a date, it hadn’t worked out and there had been no word of other suitors since then. It could be possible, Caroline thought, with this thing they had. Barcelona had shown her _how_ they could live together, how they might be. After all they’d been through, she finally had a sense of a future for them.  
  
At last, Caroline had a plan, or at least the possibility of one. She sighed with relief, hugged her dog and received a snuffly, sleepy woof before turning over and relaxing. She’d talk to Gillian in the morning. She had a plan.  
  


* * *

  
  
Caroline leant against the stone wall of the little bridge in Ripponden, enjoying the gentle breeze whispering through the leaves of the oak trees on the early summer day. The rain just hours before had cleansed the air to a crisp freshness and had swollen the little creek below to a modest stream, despite its more boastful name of Ryburn River.  
  
She’d been watching Flora and Calamity playing Pooh Sticks, both squealing with delight as they dropped their twigs over one side of the bridge before rushing to the other to watch them float past. The twigs would bob and roll as they passed under the bridge, and the girls would jump and argue about whose was ahead, each certain the winning stick was hers.  
  
Caroline looked up to see Gillian walking towards them. Gillian was wearing the summer dress she’d worn in Barcelona, and as soon as Caroline saw it, she knew a ‘Gillian’ adventure was going to happen. Gillian would have worn the dress intentionally and Caroline’s eyes appreciatively travelled up and down Gillian’s approaching form, enjoying how it revealed her muscular legs.  
  
Caroline’s lips parted inadvertently as she remembered the adult version of hide and seek her fingers had played under that particular frock. Her breath hitched with the bewitching recollection of Gillian’s sighs, and her fingers tingled with the tantalising sense-memory of soft flesh. As Gillian moved the light summer frock rippled around her, the red flowers floating across the surface of it, matching the new shade of lipstick the farmer was wearing. Caroline knew she shouldn’t have noticed, because now she was having trouble dragging her eyes from Gillian’s lips, and when she finally looked up, she caught Gillian staring at her with a lusty intensity. _Shit!_  
  
Trying to snap out of it, Caroline put out a hand to brace herself against the stone bridge, needing something cool and solid while she tried to get her flustered self under control. Gillian stood there gloating, knowing the precise effect she’d had on the blonde.  
  
The gauntlet thrown, Caroline stood up tall and stepped into the fray, asking with a honeyed voice, “Hello, Gillian. Lipstick? Is that really you?”

Gillian chuckled before a leer emerged. “Let’s pretend it isn’t me, and see what happens.”  
  
The poise Caroline had presented liquified into something more sensuous, and a secretive smile rose up her face. Without meaning to she found herself staring at Gillian’s lips again, slowly leaning towards the beautiful brunette before she realised what she was doing. She managed to stop herself before their lips connected, but they both knew where she’d been heading.  
  
Caroline blushed, and quickly turned away, clearing her throat loudly.  
  
Gillian smirked, a sharp laugh escaping before she wrapped her arms around her chest, holding herself in, not allowing her hands the temptation of straying. She walked to stand next to Caroline, both of them looking out over the stream, carefully not touching one another. The sound of the water gradually calmed them, the tension subsiding, and after a while both managed to breathe normally again. Gillian reached out, gently squeezing Caroline’s hand as it rested on the stone. As they’d done so many times before, they made subtle adjustments when they were in the vicinity of the other, settling into the quiet joy of one another’s company.  
  
Listening to the water and the girls playing, Gillian turned to Caroline and broke the silence.  
  
“How’re you going after all the mucking about with Judith and John? Is he still at yours?”  
  
Caroline sighed, gazing into the distance. “Oh, he’s still there. I’d forgotten how annoying he can be, but it is handy with him picking up the little ones.”  
  
“So, your mum’s still on her high horse—”  
  
“Yep. Don’t think she’ll change her mind unless your dad gives up his job. It’s emotional blackmail 101,” Caroline chuckled ruefully.  
  
Gillian nodded, trying to hold her tongue, thinking a change of topic was warranted if she was to avoid criticising Caroline’s mum.  
  
“So, how are you?” Gillian asked again, wondering if Caroline would dodge the question.  
  
Caroline’s shoulders slumped for a moment, the smile sliding from her face.  
  
“It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine, you know Caz, even if it’s a bit shit at the moment.”  
  
“I know. It just...” Caroline closed her eyes before pulling herself together.  
  
Gillian rested her hand tenderly on Caroline’s back. Speaking quietly, offered, “You can’t stay in your corner of the forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.”  
  
Caroline nodded. “I know. It’s been a tough week.” She turned her head, looking at Gillian more closely. “I have been thinking about you. About your farm. Are you still thinking of selling?” she asked.  
  
Gillian screwed up her face and then nodded. “Yeah. I don’t want to, but the constant stress...” she said quietly, knowing that Caroline would understand she was talking about money.  
  
Caroline shifted on her feet, trying to find a good way to say what she wanted Gillian to hear.  
  
“I know we spoke briefly about it a few days ago, but I think it might be worth some thought, I really do.” Caroline tilted her head slightly, as if the new angle would grant a fresh perspective. “I spoke with the chap who’s selling the land next to me and he said the Jenkins on the other side of him were thinking of selling too. There might be enough land between them; 35 acres I think you said you’d need.”  
  
“Yeah. Depends on the land a bit.” Gillian looked at Caroline, wondering if she’d really thought this through. “So, you’re proposing that we live together. Really live together.”  
  
“Yeah. No, not in any...”  
  
“Not like Barcelona then, Caz?”  
  
“No. Well...” Caroline turned her head sharply to peer at Gillian. “I thought you might be going out with—”  
  
“No! No, not dating, Caz. Not—”  
  
“We could, potentially, look into something more advantageous for us both, so to speak—”  
  
“You’re making it sound like a business deal, Caz.”  
  
Caroline paused, her only clear understanding was that she missed Gillian. Everything else was too raw and too real to put into words just yet, and it was so much easier to explain what she was thinking.  
  
“I don’t mean to sound official, but, we will need to make it...you know, at some point—”  
  
“We don’t know what the deal is yet Caroline.” Gillian said softly, knowing Caroline was trying to find a way out of the mire for herself and Flora. “I know raising a kid is tough. It can be really lonely raising a kid by yourself; it's much more friendly with two.”  
  
Gillian knew this was hard for Caroline, knew the headteacher would head for the hills at the first heartbeat of emotion, but she also knew Caroline had reached the end of her tether. She lightly traced a path up Caroline’s forearm with her fingers before bringing her hand to rest with a soothing squeeze.  
  
“You're braver than you believe and stronger and smarter than you think.”  
  
Caroline risked looking at Gillian, and managed a watery smile. “Thank you.”  
  
“Come on,” Gillian chivvied her. “You’ve got me thinking you’re Eeyore.”  
  
“Ha! And there I was thinking I was Pooh.”  
  
“What does that make me? Piglet?” Gillian snorted. “That’d be right.”  
  
“Better than Roo, Gillian,” Caroline said with a grin. “He completely lacks any awareness of danger. On second thought, maybe that is you.”  
  
“Yeah, and you’d be Kanga if you had the chance,” Gillian chuckled, “Looking after the bloody lot of us, all sensible like—”  
  
Caroline exclaimed, “Oh I’d much rather be Pooh, wandering about looking for honey and—”  
  
“You do know Pooh never wore pants, right?” Gillian interrupted with a glint in her eyes that wasn’t lost on the blonde.  
  
Deliberately ignoring the remark, her grin wide and eyes shining, Caroline asked hopefully, “Isn’t it ten past eleven yet, and time for tea?”  
  
“More like ten past midday and the perfect time for a Burgundy, Caz.”  
  
Caroline laughed, the bright sound filtering through the trees like the wind.  
  
She turned, holding her hand out to Flora and Calamity. “Come on girls! Time for lunch.”  
  
To squeals of joy, the group of four wandered down the narrow path towards the pub, the girls skipping ahead with the excitement of promised chips. The women, a few paces behind, walked more sedately but just as keenly towards a white-washed sanctuary filled with wine and a rare, relaxing afternoon.  
  


* * *

  
  
All day Gillian had been thinking about her Uncle Ted. Ted, coming home to bury his wife, to be buried with his wife. It was not the loss of him—which was not particularly acute as she couldn’t miss someone who’d been absent for 30 years—but the idea of him that had been lost to her. What struck Gillian was how his homecoming was really a trip to be reunited with his wife and his most eternal desire, to travel with her forever.  
  
This need to be with someone for this life and the next, so apparent in both Ted and her father, was something that had passed her by. There had been a niggle at the back of her mind for days about it, something she knew would be important, but she couldn’t quite catch it. She closed her eyes tight for a moment, shutting out the external to focus on her thoughts, despite knowing the idea would disappear like smoke. She blinked and sighed, and hoped it would come to her later.  
  
Gillian moved among the family gathering at her house, making sure everyone at the wake had what they needed. As she surveyed the crowd, she remembered Caroline’s comment at Kate’s wake that she didn’t know half the people there. Suddenly she was overtaken by a need to check on Caroline, worried she’d be trapped thinking about that last funeral they’d attended together. Within seconds she’d spotted Caroline by herself, looking at her mobile and nursing a glass of red wine on the tired old armchair in the corner.   
  
A smile flitted across Gillian’s face as she pulled her own mobile from her pocket and texted Caroline, wanting to surreptitiously watch her reaction.  
  
_I don’t know who half these people are or when they’ll be leaving. Can I hide out with you?_  
  
Caroline smiled at her mobile as she typed her response, warming Gillian right down to her soul.  
  
_Thought you’d never ask._  
  
Caroline looked up, unexpectedly spotting Gillian smiling at her mobile. She continued to watch as Gillian picked up a plate of nibbles, the offering providing a prime excuse to join her favourite blonde. Gillian chose to ignore the available stool, instead perching on one of the arms of the heavy chair, almost draping herself across Caroline’s shoulders like a shawl. It was as close as she could be to Caroline without actually sitting on her lap—which had crossed her mind, but after the brief flurry of desire that flashed through her, she had discounted the idea as it was closely followed by a stream of shouty invective from her often-ignored, internal parent.  
  
Forgetting others might be watching them, one of Gillian’s hands distractedly drew circles on the back of Caroline’s shoulder while a foot slowly swung, a metronome to the emotional beat of their conversation about the farm, about John and his ridiculousness.

Gillian’s heart skittered, the thought of Barcelona never far from her mind; there was a seductive joy that travelled along the nape of her neck at every memory of it. She knew Caroline still wanted her; too often she’d see desire flare in Caroline’s eyes, the wildness of it visible before it was brought under control again. Sitting so close, with the scent of Caroline so intoxicating, Gillian had a sudden realisation that what they had was more than short term. For the first time, Gillian could really see the two of them lasting the distance. Gillian knew that love was sometimes taking a few steps backward, maybe even more, to give way to the happiness of the person she loved, but this time she knew she needed to push instead. It was a simple plan; by taking Caroline out of her rigid prison of the day-to-day, Gillian hoped Caroline might see the possibilities of the two of them. She pleaded and cajoled and this time, the fourth time she’d asked, Caroline capitulated and agreed to go to the disco. Gillian hoped an adventure, would do the trick and she could barely contain her excitement.

Ensconced in their own world, they were obviously together and somewhat separate from the rest of the family. It was Ellie who’d noticed it first; the touching, the quiet conversations, the closeness of them. They couldn’t be in the same room without gravitating towards each other, their touches tender and warm, their smiles secretive. She’d watched how Gillian’s smile blossomed when talking of Caroline, how just the nearness of the headteacher would settle the normally restless farmer into a quiet sort of happiness.  
  
Of course, their ‘special’ relationship had been confirmed when Calamity had spilled the beans one morning about them sleeping naked in the same bed. After Ellie had had a discussion with a shocked Raff, neither entirely sure of the current state of play, they’d decided on quiet observation and a £10 wager on whether the two women would either come clean about their relationship, or would bust up for good. Raff was really hoping for the former, not just for his mum’s happiness, but because if the two strong women started scrapping again it would probably split up the oldies as well.  
  
They watched the two women huddled together on the armchair, the casual intimacy of it clear to anyone observing. No one else seemed to notice; it was like they were hiding in plain sight. There was a flurry of laughter and Gillian sprung off the chair and darted over to speak to Ellie. Too excited to stand still, Gillian almost danced as she asked if Ellie would look after Flora on Saturday night while she and Caroline went to Hebden Women’s Disco. Ellie nudged Raff, not missing Gillian’s pointed look at John while she’d asked the favour.  
  
Ellie’s immediate, “Yeah. Of course,” triggered a broad grin from Gillian, who almost skipped with delight on her way to tell Caroline the good news. As they planned their adventure, Gillian couldn’t keep the telling smile from her face, the thought of going out with Caroline filling her with joy. Anticipation of the opportunity to hold Caroline in her arms flooded her system with a tremulous glee.  
  
Alan had noticed the spring in Gillian’s step as she flitted back to Caroline’s corner, where she was perched once again on the arm of the chair, leaning close to whisper something in Caroline’s ear. Only half listening to the conversation with his mates, his attention was focused on his daughter as he thought about Celia’s comments about how close their girls had become over the years. Occasionally he’d wonder if there was a growing attraction there. Now, watching Gillian, he saw it. Relieved Celia was oblivious to it all, he ruminated over whether to give Gillian his blessing.

He could picture them as a pair, bickering but close as hell, conspiring to get up to mayhem. He imagined Gillian as the instigator and wondered if Caroline would follow as he didn’t think she ever got into trouble. He knew that look in Gillian’s eyes though. He could tell she was up to something, just like when she was a teenager.  
  
Unaware of their audience, Caroline reached up to remove an eyelash from Gillian’s face. Alan didn’t miss the tender way she caressed Gillian’s cheek as she did so. Gillian’s response was to close her eyes and move into the touch. He could tell she was savouring the connection. It was then he realised Caroline returned Gillian’s affection, and happiness flushed through him. He knew Caroline was grounded and didn’t enter into relationships lightly, so Gillian must be exuding something more solid as a partner than he’d ever seen. He worried about his only child being alone when his heart finally stops but if she settled down with Caroline, he knew Caroline’s kindness would always extend to his daughter. He trusted Caroline, and that gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t realised he’d needed. Looking at his empty glass, he sighed, pondering what he’d have to do to get out of the poo with Celia when she found out about them. “Oh bother,” he thought, deciding to leave that worry for another day. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne, 1926**  
>  https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1225592-winnie-the-pooh-winnie-the-pooh-1  
> https://www.marieleslie.com/19-inspiring-quotes-on-love-and-friendship-from-winnie-the-pooh/
> 
> _“It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine.” - Eeyore_
> 
> _“You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” - Winnie the Pooh_
> 
> _“It's so much more friendly with two.” - Piglet_
> 
> _“You're braver than you believe and stronger and smarter than you think.” - Christopher Robin_
> 
> _“Hello, Rabbit,” Pooh said, “Is that you?”_  
>  _“Let’s pretend it isn’t,” said Rabbit, “And see what happens.”_
> 
> _“Love is taking a few steps backward, maybe even more…to give way to the happiness of the person you love.” - Pooh_
> 
> _“As soon as I saw you, I knew an adventure was going to happen.” - Pooh_


	8. Where the Wild Things Are

“I fully intend to bring someone home tonight, and I’d rather you were gone.”  
  
“But, Caroline—”  
  
“But, John. It’s time you realised this is not your home.”  
  
“I thought we were—”  
  
“John, we are no longer married. You are not my responsibility anymore and it’s time—”  
  
“Well that’s—”  
  
“It was never going to happen, was it?” Caroline looked at him, frustrated and yet still with some residual fondness. “I’m not going to make sure your dinner’s still warm when you get home, like when the boys were little. You made your bed; you lie in it. I don’t want to be unkind, but it really is time you moved on.”  
  
“So you’re going out. Out to...” he asked, trying to change the topic, the rising tone at the end turning it into a question.  
  
“Hebden Women’s Disco.”  
  
“With Gillian.”  
  
She nodded, “And we’re going to—”  
  
“To a lesbian bar...”  
  
She watched him hunting for one of his predictable arguments for staying, calculating his strategy. She clarified, “Yep. I’ve told you before, but you still won’t listen. I’m a lesbian. I like sleeping with other women. And I will be bringing someone home with me.”  
  
“A woman,” he spat out, raising her ire.  
  
“Yes. A woman. Or two, maybe,” she suggested, before adding spitefully, “two for me, and none for you.”  
  
“That’s...that’s...” John huffed, watching the obstinance ooze from her, glare fixed and a hand on a hip. He knew that look, knew that determination. His ex-wife had made a decision and there would be no changing it now. He also knew the slim hope she’d take him back had disintegrated. He really had stuffed it up all those years ago, by leaving a woman who had loved and nurtured him for so long during their marriage. He’d been bored, and now he was paying for it.  
  
He turned and trudged upstairs to the spare room, muttering obscenities under his breath, gnashing his teeth and stomping his feet like a petulant child being sent to bed without his supper, wondering if Judith might be persuaded to take him back. 

Thirty minutes later, Caroline watched the sea green BMW backing out of her courtyard, bin bags visible on the back seat. He really was just a boy, pretending to be a man, pretending to be a husband, kidding only himself. She looked to the heavens and closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. While it had been useful to have him pick up the girls, it was lovely to have him gone. Remembering the girls, she thought of Flora, who would be having a wonderful time playing with Calamity for the night. She smiled and Ruth leaned into her leg, encouraging a pat. Absentmindedly she scratched Ruth’s ears; she finally had the house to herself for the first time in months and the temptation to make mischief of one kind or another pulled at her.

Instead, Caroline took the time to stress about the approaching night out. Was it a date? She had no idea, but it was making her nervous, nonetheless. She had two hours until Gillian arrived so she spent the first half hour cleaning the spare room of all traces of John.

The trouble with John was the tiresome anger that bubbled up from within even at the thought of him, which was so different to how she felt about Gillian. Caroline smiled, the warmth of her memories of the farmer softening her stance immediately. Partly this was the sheer joy of Gillian’s company, but it was also because she was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved her most of all. In the depths of her, she knew this to be the case, but at an intellectual level, she’d learned to distrust her soul and fear swirled around her heart.

She went downstairs for what she hoped would be a calming cup of tea. It wasn’t, but it lead to a shower and a bit of deforestation—just in case—and then she was faced with the dilemma of what to wear. Gillian had told her to dress casually, but was that Gillian casual or her casual? Was she going to stand out as a frumpy middle-aged spinster or a posh twat? Neither sounded good. Caroline tried on a variety of tops to go with her designer jeans and by the time there was a small pile of clothes on her bed, Ruth started to heckle her with raised doggy eyebrows while gnawing on a Pooh bear stuffed toy.

Caroline pointed an accusatory finger at the retriever, muttering, “That’s enough from you, madam,” taking a few minutes to run her hands through the dog’s thick fur, softening the accusation and calming herself. _Fur therapy_ , she thought, smiling.

She tried on another couple of tops and eventually grabbed a cream jumper, finding the obligatory silk scarf to complete the ensemble. She’d put the rejected outfits away and was just making the last touches to her makeup when she heard Gillian knock on the door and the door opening. A call came from downstairs.

“Caroline?”

Ruth ran out of the bathroom and bounded down the stairs to greet Gillian.

The commotion stopped the blonde in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat and a charge of excitement shooting through her. “Traitorous dog,” she muttered under her breath, jealous because she wanted to do the same despite convention requiring more refined behavior. She called out in response, “Down in a minute Gillian!” before taking a deep breathe and smoothing imaginary creases from the front of her jumper. Date or not, the whistle for the start of play had blown.

Gillian smiled, an automatic reaction to her name being called by Caroline, the thought of the blonde raising her pulse more than a little. She bent down to run her fingers through Ruth’s soft hair. Gillian held her breath when Caroline walked down the stairs, her smile growing even larger as Caroline got closer.

“She’s gorgeous,” Gillian mumbled into Ruth’s coat, “but you know that,” before straightening up to greet Ruth’s human.

“Hiya Caz. I’m taking you to dinner first. We’ve plenty of time.” Gillian’s smile was just as broad as Caroline’s and she thought it must be a dead giveaway.

“Hi.” Caroline seemed to be as jittery as Gillian. “Would you like a glass of something while we wait for our taxi?” Tellingly, Caroline’s voice was deeper and her hands shook slightly.

She led Gillian into the kitchen, the glasses already waiting on the bench. She poured the white wine and held up a glass for Gillian. As she handed over the wine, their fingers touched and both of them jumped a little before their eyes met.

Caroline blushed. It was in that moment Gillian knew; she knew because when Caroline blushed, it meant ‘Yes’. She could see Caroline was nervous, but it was clear she thought of this as a date. They were no longer going out to find someone else for Caroline; Caroline was here, with Gillian, and going out, with Gillian.

A thousand excitements and worries charged through Gillian’s mind, all of them confounding and terrifying. She could barely breathe. Wanting to say a hundred things and not wanting to stumble any of over them, Gillian drank her wine instead, great gulps of it while she held onto the sturdy table. She watched Caroline sip her wine, the elegance of the gesture so automatic that when Gillian had told her about it once during a long evening in Barcelona, Caroline had been completely flummoxed. But here in Caroline’s kitchen, Gillian was spellbound again.  
  
To distract herself, Gillian turned and looked out the windows, the view of the garden and the valley beyond always glorious. She concentrated on the view, knowing that if she wasn’t careful, Caroline’s small elegant gestures were going to be her undoing. She was doubtful she would be able to hold it together for the whole evening; all she really wanted was to drag Caroline to bed right now and be done with the rest of the world entirely. She knew Caroline desired her and would succumb to seduction, because inside Caroline, underneath all that control was a wild thing. Tonight, Gillian was playing the long game. She wanted Caroline to be ready for them as a couple, to make the first move. Tonight, her job was to get Caroline in the Barcelona mood. To help pace herself, she came up with a mantra for the evening. _Not yet, be patient. Not yet._  
  
Gillian was running the mantra through her mind when the spell was broken by the sound of their ride entering the courtyard; their evening was underway. Flashing a grin at Caroline, Gillian knew the night was hers to direct. As Mistress of Ceremonies, this was her gig.  
  
“Okay Alice, we’re off on our adventure. Grab your bag and let’s fall through the rabbit hole.”  
  
Gillian’s excitement was contagious and Caroline laughed brightly. She patted Ruth, picked up her bag and followed Gillian out the door, locking it behind her.  
  
The taxi was cramped and it meant that Gillian’s leg was touching Caroline’s as they sat in the back seat, the heat of her through the jeans making it hard for Gillian to concentrate on anything else. _Not yet. Be patient,_ Gillian told herself.  
  
“Where are we going to dinner?”  
  
“It’s a surprise,” Gillian answered.  
  
“I know you’re directing the traffic tonight, but I’d like to pay for—”  
  
“It’s okay, Caz.”  
  
“At least let me pay for the taxis,” Caroline offered  
  
Gillian nodded, thinking if Caroline had a little bit of ownership of the evening it would could work in her favour. “Okay, but I’ll look after everything else.”  
  
“If you’re sure, I’m happy to—”  
  
“It’s all taken care of Caz.”  
  
And it was. Her dad had given her money for the evening, telling her it was for a special night for their birthday, just for the two of them, to make up for Celia’s unpleasantness at their birthday dinner. Gillian took hold of Caroline’s hand, her thumb caressing the soft skin to soothe her nerves. She leaned even closer to Caroline, trying not to inhale too deeply the scent of posh soap, shampoo and skin, her voice trying to be as calming as her hand, “I know you get up and speak in front of a thousand people every other day without batting an eyelid, and yet on a night out with me, you’re trembling.”  
  
Caroline turned to her, vulnerable. “I don’t know how to...”  
  
“We can do this Caz. Together. You know that.”  
  
Gillian raised Caroline’s hand to her mouth, a soft kiss on the back of it to cement the promise, watching a watery smile form on Caroline’s face.  
  
Caroline squeezed Gillian’s hand before responding, “I do know. Thank you.”  
  
Gillian lightened the moment, jumping into an exuberant spiel about being a wing-woman for another friend and how disastrous that had been, not quite joining the dots that it may not have been the best story to tell a nervous Caroline.  
  
Caroline knew the busy excitement of the story was Gillian’s way of filling the gaps between Caroline’s tension, smoothing the sharpness of her anxiety with a mindless but hopefully distracting babble. It worked better than Caroline anticipated and by the time the taxi had taken them from Ripponden to Hebden Bridge, the 25 minutes had passed quickly and with joy.  
  
That joy was one of the things Caroline treasured most with the time she spent with Gillian. There wasn’t anyone in her current life who was as easy to please. Gillian never seemed to want much, or expect much, so was surprisingly easy to be around. She also didn’t expect Caroline to hold it together all the time either, so Caroline didn’t feel the need to be perfect, like she usually did. As a result, there was a lightness and a care that was now part of their repertoire. It was how they were together and it gave her room to breathe.  
  
The taxi dropped them in the heart of the small town. Caroline paid the driver and when she turned, Gillian took hold of her hand again.  
  
“You’re with me, and we’re in Hebden Bridge. There isn’t a safer place in the whole of Christendom.” Gillian shook Caroline’s arm gently. “Okay?”  
  
Caroline smiled and nodded. “Okay.”  
  
They walked down the street together, the people milling about paying them no attention, not aware or not caring that two women were walking hand in hand. This was new for Caroline. She’d never really had the chance to do this with Kate; they’d had too short a time together, and she’d not been quite ready for it. But now, while it was challenging and she kept expecting a reaction from other people, Caroline was easily persuaded, feeling protected by Gillian’s confidence. As they walked she became more comfortable with the idea of it, and by the time they turned into Calan’s Micropub, Caroline had started to relax.  
  
Dinner was a delight. Gillian was in entertaining form, the food was fresh and tasty and set Gillian up with a flurry of vegetarian jokes. They were surrounded by other lesbians and gay men which helped Caroline to feel more at home, and the music was lively but not too loud to converse. Rounding the dinner off was a shared chocolate and orange dessert, which brought back memories of the oranges in Spain and gave Gillian the opportunity to watch Caroline savour each mouthful, a gift she’d learned to appreciate in Barcelona. Gillian claimed she was full, all to greedily gaze at the blissful expressions on Caroline’s face; eye’s closed, lips and tongue so full of promise, and every now and then she’d emit a low moan of sweet satisfaction. Gillian had to sit on her hands, the mantra _not yet, be patient_ drowned by the loud pulse of blood charging through her arteries.  
  
The sun, dropping behind the hills around the valley, was creating the long shadows fading to a soft blue as Gillian stood up, dropped some cash on the table, took Caroline’s hand again, and led them towards their next venue.  
  
They hadn’t gone far when the safety of the meal and the pub wore off and anxiety about the disco took over Caroline’s mind. It had been so long since she’d been at a lesbian event that she really had no idea what she’d find, or even how she’d feel about it. The idea of it wasn’t a bad one; to find someone, a possible lover, a possible wife, but her thoughts were circling ever closer to home, ever closer to the woman walking next to her. What she didn’t know was how Gillian felt. Caroline’s natural reticence in the emotional entanglement department had her squirming and hunting for an escape plan. Nights like this made her feel completely inept.  
  
Caroline knew Gillian was masterminding this evening for her, that it was all about finding her a date, but what she had realised in the last few months was that Gillian was exactly who she was looking for. She’d originally wanted someone stable and reliable; someone like herself, but the thought that she’d find someone exactly like her filled her with horror; the idea of two selfish, repressed and emotionally crippled women together was only ever going to be a disaster. She really needed someone more adaptable, and less rigid, someone who could flex when the situation required. What she’d finally realised since returning from Barcelona was that the Gillian she’d originally met had ceased to be the destructive, unreliable flake she thought she was, and had turned into a reliable, generous and joyful woman. What struck her most clearly was the Peta Pan like quality Gillian exuded when she felt safe, when she wasn’t under pressure. It was almost as if Caroline’s belief in Gillian had enabled Gillian to blossom into that potential.  
  
“Gillian, do we really have to do this? I mean, I don’t really—”  
  
Gillian turned to face Caroline as she walked, the alcohol loosening her joints as well as her tongue.  
  
“Caz, there’s no need to be nervous. You’re with me! Let the wild rumpus start!”  
  
“I know, but seriously, we don’t have to—”  
  
“We do. You know we do,” Gillian said, nodding, smiling. “In fact,” Gillian starts singing, quietly at first, “If you want to go out dancing, I know a place, I know a place we can go.”  
  
Caroline couldn’t help but be pulled along by Gillian’s boldness, and a laugh erupted. “Gillian!”  
  
Gillian’s half sung, half spoken word song continued, this time louder.  
  
“They will try to make you unhappy,  
don’t let them,  
they will try to tell you you’re not free,  
don’t listen,  
I know a place you don’t need protection,  
even if it’s only in my imagination,  
I know a place we can go...”  
  
Caroline laughed at Gillian’s audaciousness when Gillian quickly checked the street and pulled Caroline into an alley behind a van, the emblem of the post office visible on the shiny surface. Turning to face her, Gillian pushed Caroline up against the van, a squeak of resistance the only objection.   
  
“What? Gillian—”  
  
“Sometimes you talk too much, Caz,” Gillian whispered, leaning against the taller woman, face reaching up. “Sometimes you just have to trust me, trust that you’ll be safe with me. You know I’ll never lead you into harm’s way.”  
  
“I know that. I do know that.”  
  
“Good. All you need to know tonight, is that I’ll look after you.” Gillian leaned even closer, her mouth so close she could feel Caroline’s short breaths on her lips, the scent of the alcohol and dessert and Caroline making her internally recite _not yet, be patient._  
  
Caroline felt the pleasure of Gillian’s hands on her hips effectively pinning her to the van, and all she could think about were Gillian’s lips on hers. All she saw was Gillian’s brilliant eyes, branding her soul. Caroline’s lips parted, her mouth was dry and all she wanted was for Gillian to kiss her.  
  
Gillian released her hold and stepped back, her breathing just as ragged as Caroline’s. Still gazing into Caroline’s eyes, she held out a hand and a smile warmed her face.  
  
“Shall we?”  
  
“I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready,” Caroline whispered, trying to convince herself Gillian’s plan wasn’t going to lead them into choppy water; all she wanted was her warm bed with Gillian in it and it was almost in her grasp. _Not yet, be patient,_ she thought as she took the offered hand as though it were a life jacket, steadying herself to sail into the night with Gillian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I Know a Place** by Muna _(Catherine Hope Gavin, Naomi Kaleela, Elizabeth McPherson, Josette Leigh Maskin), 2016_
> 
>   
> **Where the Wild Things Are** by Maurice Sendak, 1963  
>  _Quotes from Goodreads.com_
> 
>  _“Let’s make mischief of one kind or another”_  
>  _“And now, let the wild rumpus start”_  
>  _“Inside all of us is hope, fear and adventure. Inside all of us is a wild thing”_  
>  _“And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.”_  
>  _“He’s just a boy, pretending to be a wolf, pretending to be king”_  
>  _“And the wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws.”_  
>  _“And [he] sailed back over a yearand in and out of weeksand through a day and into the night of his very own roomwhere he found his supper waiting for himand it was still hot.”_  
>  _“I have nothing now but praise for my life. I'm not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more...What I dread is the isolation. ... There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready.” ___  
> 


	9. The Little Prince

The first strands of light filtered through the blinds in the early morning and the birds started their chorus with what sounded like a chirped set of instructions to offspring unwilling to leave the nest. Caroline knew the feeling. She lay there with her eyes closed, thinking about earlier in the week when she had finally packed Lawrence off to Angus’ place after pulling in a favour; she’d found Lawrence an internship at a new media company run by a rising star who was a Sulgrave Heath graduate; perhaps there her wayward son would discover something he liked doing and would find his purpose.  
  
She blinked, the light causing her to squint and cover her face with a hand, her hangover beginning to make itself known. She creased her forehead, which only made it worse; it felt like her skull had shrunk overnight. She sighed, dropping her hand next to her body, only to hit another body in the bed. Ruth. She smiled. The lovely, loyal Ruth, the dog Flora had badgered her to get, only to find the dog appreciated her company more than Flora’s.  
  
Caroline moved her hand to comb her fingers through Ruth’s fur, puzzled by the smooth surface of the duvet she found instead. She turned and opened her eyes.  
  
Caroline froze, her mouth gaped open and shock flooded her arteries as she recognised the messy brown hair of her step-sister, Gillian.  
  
Caroline clamped her eyes shut and exhaled quietly, a sudden awareness of her own nakedness and the reason for it now apparent. Memories of the evening came back to her and she smiled to herself, sure it was one of those self-satisfied smiles that told everyone else she’d had a really good shag. She almost laughed at herself. It had been so long she figured she was allowed to brag a little, if only to herself.  
  
She turned her head to look more closely at the form next to her, the farmer so deeply asleep she was starting to snore quietly. Caroline remembered from Barcelona Gillian would snuffle quietly during the night when she’d had a few drinks. It brought a forgiving smile to Caroline’s face.  
  
After a few more moments to gather her thoughts, Caroline carefully got up, the pleasing aches from the night’s activities evident. Not wanting to disturb the slumbering farmer she tiptoed around the bed, grabbed her dressing gown and quietly opened the bedroom door. There, guarding the exit, was Ruth, who yawned and stretched before rising to follow Caroline down the stairs.

Caroline let the dog out for her morning business. She waited, head resting against the door until Ruth sauntered back inside, happy to plonk herself on the doggie beanbag and watch her human gingerly move around the kitchen.  
  
Caroline headed for the medical shelf in the kitchen cabinet, rifling around until she found the ibuprofen. She swallowed a couple of tablets with a full glass of water, berating herself for drinking so much alcohol. After making a strong cup of tea with extra sugar, she sat down, slouching on the chair, wondering what would happen now. As she wrapped her hands around the warm mug for comfort in the cool of the morning, more details from the previous night filtered through her consciousness.   


* * *

  
  
  
As they entered, Caroline’s eyes roamed the room, the colourful disco lights dim enough to add a seductive quality to the women hiding in shadows as they too watched the people dancing in the middle of the room. She noticed the women were a diverse group; some clearly teenagers and others well into their 60s and there were a lot more women of colour than she remembered from her Oxford days. The lesbian bars and queer clubs in the 1980s had been full of young, thin lesbians wearing the nightclub uniform of a white t-shirt, blue jeans and purple doc martens whenever she’d ventured out. She’d been one of them of course; only the lack of ink and piercings had made her stand out more than her posh northern accent.  
  
Leading Caroline through the crowd to the bar, Gillian had set them up with a couple of _Pink Pigs_ to get them started. To Caroline’s dismay, Gillian had chugged her drink down so she did the same. Gillian ordered herself a follow-up gin and tonic from the bartender, and while pointing to Caroline, added loudly, _“Sex on the Beach_ for Goldilocks here,” before laughing so much she could barely stand up.  
  
Caroline glared at Gillian for a moment, before responding equally loudly, “Careful, your pelvic floor isn’t what it was!” which only made Gillian laugh even more before crossing her legs and holding onto the bar, laughing until she was wheezing for air, at which point Caroline couldn’t help but join in.  
  
After a few minutes they’d both calmed down enough to breathe, paid the bartender and picked up their fresh drinks. Gillian reached out to place her hand on Caroline’s arm, smirk still apparent. “Sorry Caz. Couldn’t help it,” she said, chuckling. “Y’know, it would’ve been nice to ‘ave tried a bit of that in Barcelona,” she added, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.  
  
Caroline smiled wryly, thinking the fantasy of having sex on a beach was probably better than the reality of sand in all the wrong places, wondered when Gillian had done that and with whom before bolting down the rest of her rum drink to blot that errant thought from her head. The drink, however, was more than palatable. She nudged Gillian to finish her drink too.  
  
Caroline waved to the bartender and ordered a third round, enunciating the name of the _Sex on the Beach_ drink clearly to Gillian’s delight before they collapsed into laughter again.  
  
Finding a free table, they perched on stools and scanned the rest of the crowd. It was then Caroline realised there was enough alcohol in her system for the giggling to kick in but not enough to be messy and that, she thought, was the sweet spot. If she could sit in the sweet spot for the rest of the night, she’d make it through her own awkwardness.  
  
As Gillian excitedly pointed out all the lesbians she knew, Caroline followed the direction of her finger, trying not to stare but she was wide-eyed, taking it all in. This was the first time in years she’d been in a room full of lesbians. Deep down she knew she was one of them, that there would be a real connection with any one of the women despite their other differences, but she was so used to being isolated that it threw her. There was so much _potential_ for sex. She found it simultaneously terrifying and arousing, and that was most disconcerting. She had another sip of her drink, trying to stay in the sweet spot.  
  
“Jesus, they’re everywhere!” Gillian exclaimed, interrupting Caroline’s thoughts as they both burst into yet another fit of giggles.  
  
Gillian was almost squealing with delight at seeing Caroline so completely out of her element. The delight she felt pushing Caroline to let her inner lesbian go for a walk on the wild side was a lot more intoxicating than the G&T’s she was guzzling. It was high time Caroline was proud to be a lesbian rather than resigned to it, and if Gillian could help with that, all the better. She sat with her arm along the back of Caroline’s chair, protective but not touching. Close, but not too close, the warmth radiating from Caroline’s shoulders enough to give her a visceral thrill without the ecstasy of touch. _Not yet, be patient._ She guarded Caroline from trouble while the blonde found her bearings, settling back into her gay skin once more.  
  
Gillian snuggled in closer to Caroline, pointing out a woman surreptitiously staring at the blonde. She leant in to speak into Caroline’s ear with a faux posh accent.  
  
“We must endure the presence of a few caterpillars if we wish to become acquainted with the butterflies, dear Caroline.”  
  
Caroline snorted, feeling loose from the drinks. “Are you talking about John, or Judith?” she asked, before they fell into each other laughing again.  
  
After recovering from their giggling, Gillian talked about her own colourful history with some of the locals while Caroline watched the crowd. She was distracted by two women dancing only a few feet away, engrossed by the brunette’s hands wandering wantonly over the blonde’s body as they moved to the beat. When the women started kissing, there was nothing polite or delicate about it; it was a snog with lots of tongue, accompanied by roving hands and grinding hips. Caroline squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, imagining herself on the dance floor with a certain brunette’s hands wandering all over her body. Caroline was desperately hoping Gillian would make her move soon, not daring to make one of her own. She clamped her eyes shut, squeezing the thought out of her head before her body fired up too much.  
  
Caroline deliberately turned away to watch a group sitting along the wall. They were young friends; two couples and a fifth member of the group who was absorbed watching other women in the club. She was definitely on the hunt. When she stood up and started walking toward them, Caroline couldn’t help but notice she was exactly her type, tall and lean with lustrous dark skin and big hands.  
  
Gillian noticed the woman approaching them was completely focused on Caroline and guessed from Kate and Olga that a woman like that would push Caroline’s buttons. She immediately moved her arm from behind Caroline’s chair to possessively drape it over the blonde’s shoulder, watching the tall woman stop in her tracks, nod to Gillian and Caroline, and turn to the bar.  
  
Caroline watched her go before stopping to catch Gillian’s eye. Gillian smirked and Caroline emitted a flustered huff. Gillian chuckled but they fell into silence as they gazed at one another while Donna Summer told them how she felt love and it was so good. The air became charged with sexual tension and Caroline and Gillian were breathing a little faster by the end of the second chorus. It was then Gillian slowly moved her hand along Caroline’s shoulder and under the blonde hair to cradle the back of Caroline’s neck, the touch erasing the pretence of Gillian as a wingwoman.  
  
Gillian leaned close enough for her lips to touch the shell of Caroline’s ear. Aware of the shiver that had run though Caroline, she spoke loudly enough for Caroline to hear her over the music. “I’m thinking we never got to dance, in Barcelona.”  
  
Caroline slowly turned her head, eyes locking onto Gillian’s lips before lifting to her eyes again. A shy smile crept up her face and then subtly, she nodded.  
  
The music changed and Gillian, recognising the song, gleefully stood up.  
  
“Come on Rapunzel. Time to let down your hair!”  
  
Caroline chuckled, allowing Gillian to pull her to her feet.  
  
Gillian, hips already swaying to the synth beat pounding through the speakers, looked directly at Caroline.  
  
“All I want to get is, a little bit closer...”  
  
Caroline laughed nervously, eyes shining with the joy of Gillian’s exuberance.  
  
“All I want to know is, can you come a little closer?” Gillian’s grin became an impish smirk as she led Caroline onto the dance floor, pulling the blonde into her arms. “Here comes the rush before we touch, come a little closer.”  
  
Gillian’s pull on Caroline was magnetic; Gillian’s eyes, her voice and her body were a call to action and Caroline was in her thrall.  
  
“So let’s make things physical, I won’t treat you like you’re oh so typical.”  
  
Gillian finished the line by singing breathlessly in Caroline’s ear, hand sliding over the swell of her bottom, pulling her in tight. She left a trail of wet kisses down Caroline’s neck, the intoxicating tang of a light sweat mixing with the heady scent of expensive parfum and body lotions. She’d been so patient all night and now, now she could taste her, touch her, kiss her. Gillian was in heaven and the night was still young enough for an adventure.  
  
Caroline moaned, tilting her head to grant those soft lips more access to her sensitive neck, her body already so keyed up that she responded faster than she wanted. She gripped Gillian tightly and then she kissed Gillian softly on the lips. It started as a light touch, a ghost from their trip, but it wasn’t long before Gillian’s tongue caressed Caroline’s bottom lip and her mouth opened, inviting Gillian in. Here she was—where she’d wanted to be all night—with Gillian’s tongue in her mouth and hands roaming her body.  
  
Gillian gradually leaned back, ending their kiss. Eyes cloudy with desire and a flush already obvious on her chest, Gillian gazed at Caroline. She started moving Caroline’s hips to the beat of the music, leaning forward to speak into the blonde’s ear, cheeks touching.  
  
“You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?”  
  
Caroline smirked, “Says the woman with the most glorious arse on the planet!” She looked at Gillian with undisguised desire as she tried to calm herself. It was so freeing to be able to snog this woman so passionately in public and not face censure.  
  
Gillian laughed brightly, the music changing so Grace Jones could tell them about walking in the rain. She’d realised Caroline was adept at hiding just how insecure she was in her sense of self outside work. The damage wrought initially by Celia had been compounded by John and even Kate, and now Caroline had almost no confidence in herself as a lover, as a partner. Gillian wanted to fix that, even though she knew a lifetime would never be enough to undo all that had been wrought. Tonight was the start of a secret campaign to give Caroline a more complete sense of herself.  
  
Caroline moved her hands to safer territory, holding Gillian by the waist, starting to sway with the music again. She let Gillian guide her and the music washed over her like pixie dust, helping her to fly once again. A sense of bliss washed through her unexpectedly, marking this as one of the happiest nights she could remember. She leaned forward, breath hot in Gillian’s ear and whispered, “Thank you.”

* * *

  
  
  
Lit only by a few luminescent dials from the dashboard, Caroline welcomed Gillian snuggling into her in the back of the taxi, the 80s British pop playing quietly on the stereo continuing the mood of the nightclub. She could feel Gillian’s fingers taking advantage of the darkness, dancing their way between her thighs, the thick material of her jeans not disguising the needy touch. She quickly removed her scarf and placed it over the top of her lap, gasping when Gillian used the camouflage to press into her, causing Caroline to moan quietly before surreptitiously grabbing Gillian’s hand to stop its progress.  
  
“You can’t,” she whispered in Gillian’s ear, “Not here!”  
  
“So in another universe somewhere, you’re going to let me?” Gillian whispered back, nibbling enticingly on Caroline’s earlobe until Caroline whimpered.  
  
Caroline was struggling to hold herself together. It wasn’t helping that Gillian’s voice was in her ear, seductively whispering everything she wanted Caroline to do to her, everything she wanted to do to Caroline. Slowly, relentlessly and in great detail, Gillian described what she wanted for the rest of their night.  
  
By the time the taxi dropped them home, Caroline was so aroused she could barely think, could barely walk. Shaking slightly, Caroline pulled the keys out of her bag and opened the door. She stepped in, carefully closing the door behind Gillian. The air was thick with anticipation as she quietly placed her scarf and bag on the hall table, slowly turning to face Gillian.  
  
Now they were home, Gillian was nearing the crest of a high, approaching the point when the thrill of the chase coalesced with the desire to be caught. She leant against the door, expecting some sort of reaction from Caroline. She was unsure what would transpire so she watched, fingers drumming against the door, waiting in the tense stillness before it fractured into passion. She knew it was time for the blonde to step out of the shadow of her past, and for that, Caroline needed to own her desire. Gillian understood that it had been impossible with the kids in the bedroom next door for Caroline to really let loose, but the sense that something wilder lay just under the surface had been intoxicating.  
  
She slipped her arms around Caroline and brought her close, reaching up to tenderly bite her neck. It was designed to provoke, and it worked.  
  
Caroline felt the last strands of her restraint disintegrate. Just as Gillian had predicted, just as Gillian had wanted, Caroline let loose in a way she couldn’t in Barcelona. There was a need that came from the very depths of her being that she usually kept under tight control; tonight was a night for passion. It was erotic and wild, teeth and tongues, lips and hands driving them both over the edge time and time again.  
  
Gillian wanted every second of it. She’d so missed having sex with Caroline that her dreams since Barcelona had been full of it. The tenderness of sex with Caroline in Barcelona had been soothingly rich with love and care, but there had always been a sense of the possibilities for more. This time the sex came with an admixture of intense passion but Caroline at her most enthusiastic was still attentive to Gillian’s responses, adjusting and accommodating, shifting without conscious thought to give space to Gillian’s desire, Gillian’s needs. For the first time Gillian experienced that even in the miasma of desire, care could be taken.  
  
It was well after midnight when Gillian spied a gap in Caroline’s sexual momentum, allowing her to shift roles. It had worked for them both in Barcelona, and again it took Caroline by surprise. Gillian took the lead, driving Caroline mad with lust, driving her to the point of begging before her release on the couch, just as Gillian had described it in the taxi.  
  
When they were finally spent, Gillian gently led Caroline upstairs, past the dog hiding in the bathroom, and into Caroline’s bed to cuddle. Under the duvet the exertion, alcohol and fervour of the last few hours pulled them into an exhausted sleep.  
  
Just before the dawn they made love for the first time. Barcelona had been tender, friendly and joyful but the intensity of the last few hours had surpassed anything either of them could have imagined. Both of them had released the pent-up lust and frustration of the months of waiting and wanting, and they were able to connect at a deeper emotional level. It was there Caroline could take Gillian in her arms and show her an unspoken path to their future.

* * *

  
  
  
Caroline had chased her cup of sweet tea with a double shot of espresso and a Berocca before she heard movement upstairs. Her head was feeling marginally better, for which she was grateful, because she still had no idea what she was going to say to Gillian. The night before had been so intensely satisfying. She slouched over her empty coffee cup, wondering how it had all seemed to happen so fast, how they hadn’t managed to talk about any of it before... Caroline sighed heavily.  
  
It had been so wonderful, so exquisite, and then in the morning, their passion had been transmogrified into something blissful. She knew she loved Gillian, but this was deeper than she’d ever expected. She couldn’t imagine _not_ being with Gillian now. She had no idea how she had managed to hide the depth of her need for Gillian from herself and the sense of her own inadequacy was palpable. The night had been revelatory and extraordinary. It was like the gates within had been flung open and the tornado that was Gillian had come through, cleaning out the debris from her psyche. She had no idea how Gillian would feel about it this morning, or how she would get past it if Gillian didn’t want to stay. She knew they needed to talk but she was completely overwhelmed by the thought of it.  
  
Caroline’s mind was running through a million possibilities when she heard Gillian trudging slowly down the stairs, each creak a portent of potential exodus. Caroline had a deeply worried look on her face when Gillian entered the kitchen wearing an oversized T-shirt that was long enough to be a dress.  
  
“That bed of yours is a crime. It’s way too comfortable to get me up early enough, Caz,” Gillian griped happily. “Next thing you’ll be saying I’m sleeping beauty, or a princess or something.”  
  
Gillian took a closer look at Caroline, sitting silent and vulnerable, and stopped. She smiled benevolently. “You numpty. Probably got it all wrong in your head, haven’t you?”  
  
Caroline looked up, the worry still present but it was now interrupted by a surprised laugh. “Probably,” she added, hopeful that Gillian’s happy mood was indicative of more long-term possibilities.  
  
Gillian chuckled, walked behind Caroline, rested a hand on her shoulder and dropped a quick kiss on the top of the blonde head before getting herself a glass of water and a couple of the ibuprofen from the bottle Caroline had left on the counter.  
  
Caroline turned to watch Gillian, waiting for the conversation she longed for and dreaded.  
  
Gillian gently picked up one of Caroline’s hands and tugged. “C’mon. Time for a chat, you and me. Long overdue, Caz.” Gillian pulled Caroline slowly into the lounge and watched her sit heavily on one of the couches. She then straddled Caroline, resulting in a slightly outraged squawk from the women beneath her.  
  
“You’re not going anywhere, not ‘till we’ve talked. Properly.”  
  
“Gillian, I know we need to but if this is—”  
  
“Caz, you and me, we’ve been dancing around this for a lot longer than that dance last night,” she said, wriggling her hips pleasantly on Caroline’s thighs, “So it really is time to sort it.”  
  
Gillian nodded and only stopped after Caroline started nodding in agreement with her.  
  
Gillian’s eyes sparkled with glee. “Caz, you were sommat else last night. Just about had me dangling from the chandelier!” She chuckled, capturing Caroline’s face in her hands and gently kissed her on the lips.  
  
“But seriously, you were...very sexy. I like you like that.” Gillian leaned forward and pressed herself into Caroline’s thighs, leaving Caroline with no doubt she meant it. “You were great.”  
  
“It wasn’t too...uh...physical...for you? I mean, I don’t ever want to hurt you, or, or make you...bring back bad memories,” Caroline continued, embarrassed to be even talking about it, but knowing they needed to clear the air.  
  
“No, Caz. I’ll tell you if there’s a problem.”  
  
“Really? I would hate...I don’t ever, _ever_ want to be like—”  
  
“And you won’t. You couldn’t.” Gillian shook her head, before smiling with such affection that Caroline couldn’t help bursting out in a relieved grin.  
  
“C’mon Caz, when did you ever let loose? When was the last time?”  
  
Caroline’s shoulders dropped a little, some of the tension leaving them. “Not...not for a very long time.”  
  
“That’s what I mean. That’s good, right?” Gillian nodded, the cheeky grin coming back.  
  
“It’s all so, unexpected.” Caroline looked a little flummoxed, before nodding slowly. “It’s good. It was good. _Really_ good,” her vocabulary failing as it so often did when she delved into emotional matters.   
  
Gillian nodded, trailing her fingers gently down Caroline’s face and leaning in for another soft kiss.  
  
Sensing Caroline needed to lighten the conversation, Gillian sat up and looked around the room, spying the small wooden beams holding up the ceiling. “Not enough support for a swing here Caz. We’ll have to think of something else...”  
  
Caroline’s jaw dropped open and a deep flush of embarrassment rose up her chest, not stopping until her face was florid.  
  
“Gillian!”  
  
Gillian laughed gleefully, torso swaying and arms swinging, doing a mini Cha Cha on Caroline’s lap until Caroline started shaking her head and chuckling.  
  
“I do like you,” Gillian grinned, leaning forward to kiss Caroline, the sweetness of the kiss helping to ground them both.  
  
Gillian sat up, taking hold of Caroline’s hands, “And now, we need to talk about practicalities.”  
  
Caroline huffed, the change in conversation throwing her completely. Gillian had her thoroughly off balance, and she wondered if that was the point.  
  
“Really. You still want—”  
  
Gillian laughed cheerfully this time. “Of course you numpty. Especially now. Thinking on it, you still need someone to help you with Flora, and I could use a hand with the money. There is the land out the back of your place. I did talk to Ryan Jenkins and it could be a, a thing.”  
  
Gillian cupped Caroline’s face, reassuringly, and leant forward again. “But this is really about us, and I think...” Gillian shook her head. “I _know_ we can make a go of this. I know I’m poor and uneducated and I know I’m not Kate but I do think—”  
  
“Gillian, stop.” Caroline reached up to brush the hair falling in front of Gillian’s face tenderly behind an ear.  
  
“I know you’re not Kate. I love Kate, _loved_ , Kate, but she’s gone.” Caroline’s fingers gently traced the curves of Gillian’s face, understanding that last night she’d looked with her eyes, but today she’d have to look with her heart. “But you’re here, and I know we don’t always make sense, but I can’t...” She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, feeling raw, her voice catching, “I really can’t imagine this without you.”  
  
When Caroline opened her eyes again, they were glassy with tears. She gazed at Gillian with a watery smile, hoping with everything she had and everything she was that Gillian felt the same. She hadn’t taken such a leap of faith, such a bold admission of need for someone else, in five long years, and it would crush her beyond repair if Gillian said ‘No.’  
  
“Last night was...I don’t quite know what it was, really, but it was amazing. Spectacular.”  
  
Gillian’s eyes shone, watching Caroline’s desperation unfold in front of her, tears starting to fall. It was such a mysterious place, the land of tears. She’d never in a million years thought she’d be in this position with a smart, educated, passionate woman needing her like this. She’d hoped and she’d even prayed to a god who’d long abandoned her to be given a chance with Caroline. Caroline, the woman who seemed on the outside to have it all, and yet so wanted to be held, to be loved that she’d chosen a poor farmer.  
  
“If it’s about Flora, then we can work something out—” Gillian nervously began in an effort to fill in Caroline’s the silence.  
  
“Gillian, you know it isn’t. Well, it is, partly, but no. It’s not.” Caroline struggled, as always to understand how she felt about things like this, and about her step-sister in particular. “This really isn’t about Flora and you know it,” she challenged. She looked deep into Gillian’s eyes, finding the courage and the words to finally speak from her heart. She took a deep breath, clutching Gillian’s hips for ballast.  
  
“I love you, and I want to build a life with you. I can’t do this by myself, and I don’t want to.” She paused, her shoulders relaxing as if she was at last admitting the depth of it. “I want to live with you. I want to do this with you. I want _you.”_  
  
Finally allowing the words to wrap around her heart, Gillian softened and captured Caroline’s lips in a fervent kiss, as if to seal the momentous admission. When they broke apart, to breathe, to take stock, Gillian sat up, trying to take it all in.  
  
“So, you love me.”  
  
“Of course I love you. It is my fault that you haven’t known this,” Caroline said, the regret clear in her voice. “I’m no good at this sort of thing; it takes me a while to...but I do. I _do_ love you.”  
  
Gillian beamed, the smile fracturing at the end as tears threatened to fall. “Well that’s good, you snotty bitch, because I love you too!” She grinned cheekily, amused at Caroline’s wry reaction.  
  
“You tell me you love me, and call me a snotty bitch in the same breath?”  
  
“Yep. ‘Cause I love that part of you too.”  
  
Gillian gently kissed the side of Caroline’s face, kissed her on her brow, and then she placed a lingering kiss on Caroline’s lips.  
  
“I love how safe I feel with you, I love knowing that no matter how...physical we get, you’ll never intentionally hurt me, that if I say ‘stop’, you’ll stop.”  
  
“Always. No question. I’ll always protect you, even from my mum if comes to that,” Caroline said earnestly, knowing she’d never said anything she’d meant more than this, that she understood how profoundly important feeling safe was to Gillian, knowing it was now just as important to her.  
  
Gillian could feel the sense of a shared future together. She laughed, relief lifting the mood and the bright tones of it taking them both into sunnier skies again. She continued to kiss Caroline, revealing the things she loved about Caroline between kisses.  
  
“Caz, I love how you like expensive wine.”  
  
“Oh, I know you like that too, Gillian.”  
  
“I love how you present food like it’s gourmand even when it’s peanut butter on toast.”  
  
“Well that’s just a—”  
  
“I love how you drive a twat car.”  
  
“A Jag is not a—” and with a wry look from Gillian, Caroline relented. “Okay, it is a _very_ comfortable twat car.”  
  
“I love how your house is full of posh gadgets that you rarely ever use.”  
  
“But you do love the espresso machine.”  
  
“Yes. I do. And talking about that, let’s have a cup.”  
  
Caroline laughed. She patted Gillian’s bottom gently.  
  
“Okay. Hop off and I’ll make you one.”  
  
As they walked hand in hand into the kitchen, the mood between them so different to the way they left it, it struck Caroline that this could be what it would be like for them, that they would be able to work through their problems and find solutions together. She’d dived off a cliff, taken a massive leap of faith in the last day but she’d trusted Gillian, and they’d both come out the other side safely. She treasured that about Gillian, that the farmer could see through her bullshit and call her on it, would find a way through her self-doubt and preciousness to find the kernel of truth in the middle of it all. The crux of it was that she loved Gillian. She wanted to grow old with Gillian.  
  
As soon as Caroline started the espresso machine she turned and wrapped her arms around her lover.  
  
“Thank you.” She nuzzled into Gillian’s hair. “I was so worried this morning, so...petrified that I’d somehow stuff it up with you.”  
  
“I know, Caz,” and Gillian did. She knew the blonde had a tendency to panic, that the combination of John, Kate and life had really done a number on her, but Gillian had realised long ago she could talk Caroline through it. She understood Caroline’s fear of abandonment, just as Caroline understood her own fear of being controlled. And Gillian knew that if she tamed Caroline, she would be responsible forever for her. She also knew Caroline would be her rock, just as she had been for the last few years.  
  
“I know you get mad stuff in your head, Caz; so do I sometimes, but we’ll deal with it. You just ‘ave to come and talk to me, yeah?”  
  
Caroline nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.” She smiled, beaming a joyful love into Gillian’s face. “Want to do that for the rest of our lives? Our own fairytale ending?”  
  
“I’d like that, Caz.” Gillian nodded sagely, pulling Caroline closer to her. “I’d really like to do that. You and me against the world!”  
  
The relieved smile flitting across Caroline’s face gave Gillian the confidence to continue. “Let’s be honest. Our happily ever after began a long time ago in a land far, far away. A land called Barcelona.” 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Dis Moi, it has been such a pleasure to work with you on this fic. I feel truly blessed you shared your talent, experience and creativity with me again. It was so much fun to join you all on holiday. Thank you. KD.  
>   
>   
>  _Note: The trip to Barcelona was the summer before season 5 started. According to the newspaper on Celia’s floor in S5E1, season 5 starts on May 14th and from our calculations, ends about June 8th. However, the timeline for our fic works better if it’s only a couple of months between the trip and the events in S5 rather than nearly a year. Please forgive us this slight fudge._
> 
>   
> Thank you @DrawMeAKey for some fabulous musical recommendations.
> 
>  **Closer** by _Tegan and Sara, (Tegan Quinn, Sara Quinn, Greg Kurstin), 2014_  
>  **Walking in the Rain** by _Grace Jones (George Young and Harry Vanda), 1981 (originally released by Flash and the Pan),1979_  
>  **I Feel Love** by _Donna Summer (Donna Summer, Giorgio Moroder and Pete Bellotte), 1977_
> 
>  **The Little Prince** by _Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, 1943_  
>  Quotes from Goodreads.com  
>  _“When someone blushes, doesn't that mean 'yes’?” (ch8)_  
>  _“A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.” (ch8)_  
>  _“Of course I love you. It is my fault that you have not known it all the while”_  
>  _“But eyes are blind. You have to look with the heart.”_  
>  _“People have forgotten this truth," the fox said. "But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose.”_  
>  _“Well, I must endure the presence of a few caterpillars if I wish to become acquainted with the butterflies.”_  
>  _“It is such a mysterious place, the land of tears.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Dis-Moi and KatieDingo worked together on this fic. Dis-Moi is posting the fic on Fanfiction dot net and KatieDingo is posting the fic on Archive of Our Own dot org. Both would be delighted to read any comments or feedback you might have about the fic. Stay safe everyone.


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